


What Do You Know About Me?

by indigorose50



Category: LazyTown
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Gift Fic, Hemophobia, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slight hints of magic, Strong!Robbie, Will add more tags as the story goes, chapter 4 has some mentions of blood but nothing bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-10-09 20:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10420539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigorose50/pseuds/indigorose50
Summary: Sportacus wants to know more about Robbie Rotten. Or: Robbie saves Sportacus and neither knows what to do with this information.[now complete]





	1. Heroes For Heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SocksandFluff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocksandFluff/gifts).



> Rottensocksandfluff made me some beautiful fanart of my other Lazytown fic 'Saying It First' and I wanted to say thank you with a story just for her! Not sure how many chapters this fic will have but here is the first one. Enjoy!
> 
> As always, let me know if you see any errors or typos.

“ _Robbie Rotten_!” The children screamed. Sportacus shook his head and crossed his arms, watching with amusement as Robbie shed the rest of his disguise. The villain huffed and tossed his hat to the ground dramatically. It was one of the few times Sportacus had seen through his disguise from the start. It was fun to play along with Robbie’s more harmless schemes every once in a while. The kids usually gave Robbie a harder time than Sportacus ever could, glaring or shaking their heads at him in exaggerated disgust, so Sportacus rarely felt the urge to scold Robbie.

Sportacus’ musings were cut short by his crystal beeping. “Someone’s in trouble!” he cried, looking around. The five kids and Robbie all stopped and looked at him. He jumped and did a backflip onto the nearest wall to get a better look around. He couldn’t hear the Mayor or Bessie calling for help or see anyone in obvious distress. After a moment, he finally heard a small noise from somewhere above him.

He looked up and let out a chuckle, “You again, huh?”

It was the grey kitten. It had somehow climbed up the tree a fair ways and was now looking down towards the pavement, meowing nervously.

Everyone else followed Sportacus’ gaze and saw the kitten, “Can you get her, Sportacus? She looks really far up this time…” Ziggy said worriedly.

“Of course I can!” Sportacus declared. He jumped from the wall and grabbed onto the lowest branch. From there he scrambled up the tree in record time. When he reached the branch just below the kitten, he looked back down at his audience. The kids were all watching, fascinated. He waved to them and they cheered. Robbie still looked grumpy so Sportacus waved to him too. Robbie just rolled his eyes.

Sportacus stood on his branch, putting himself eye level with the kitten, “Hello!” The kitten meowed again and walked further out on its branch. With a frown, Sportacus followed it, shuffling his feet further down his branch. “Come now, _pínulítill_ , I’m here to help you.” He held out a hand. The kitten sniffed it cautiously. Just a bit closer and he could grab it and climb down…

His only warning was a crack.

Then he felt the branch beneath his boots disappear and he was falling backwards down to earth. Sportacus’ brain began firing off ideas on how to save him (grab another branch, land on your back, land feet first, try to break your fall with a handspring), but each one was dispelled as quickly as it came up (the branch could snap, sore or broken back, broken ankle or worse, broken _wrist_ or worse).

He closed his eyes and braced for impact.

Instead of painfully solid pavement, Sportacus felt someone grab him and hold him close. A rapid heartbeat not his own filled his ears and he opened his eyes. Someone had indeed caught him. For a wild second, he thought it was Stephanie. The girl was fast and definitely had the heart of a hero, but she was still just a child. So who—

Sportacus looked up and met the wide eyes of Robbie Rotten. The villain was holding him bridal style, just as Sportacus had done to him so often. Sportacus realized the heartbeat he was hearing was Robbie’s, since Sportacus was tucked so close to the man’s chest.

Robbie seemed just as surprised as Sportacus. He blinked down at him a few times before saying, “Are you… Um...”

Sportacus nodded before finding his vocal cords. “I’m okay.”

“Good. That’s… okay, good.”

A grey puffball dropped onto Sportacus’ chest, breaking the moment. Sportacus hissed as small claws dug through his shirt. Robbie’s arms jerked at the sudden appearance of the kitten and Sportacus wrapped his arms around the man’s neck on reflex, afraid Robbie would let go.

“There you are, you little trouble maker,” Sportacus admonished affectionately. The kitten mewed and jumped off of him safely to the ground.

“Sportacus!”

Robbie spun and Sportacus was faced with five terrified faces.

“I’m fine!” he said brightly. The children rushed over, all talking at once. He felt Robbie tense at the sudden closeness.

“That was really-”

“Are you sure you’re-”

“And then the branch snapped and you were just-”

“Calm down, guys!” Sportacus took one hand off of Robbie’s neck to get the kids’ attentions, “Everything turned out alright. Even the kitten is safe!” He gestured behind him in the general direction the kitten had wandered off in.

“I’ve never seen Robbie move that fast…” Ziggy said, a note of awe in his voice.

“You’re lucky I was even _here_ ,” Robbie said with a glare at the children, “Let this be a lesson to all of you. Don’t climb trees! Don’t climb _anything_. Don’t _do_ anything. _Ever_! You could hurt yourselves.”

Stephanie glared right back at him, hands on her hips, “That’s not the lesson here! We shouldn’t do _nothing_ just because we could get hurt.”

“No, Robbie’s right, Stephanie.”

All eyes were back on Sportacus.

“I’m what— _Of course_ I am.” Robbie said, “I always am!”

“I mean about how I’m lucky he was here.” Sportacus clarified. The kids still looked confused, and a little betrayed that their hero was agreeing with the villain. “Climbing is dangerous, especially climbing trees. Never do that without someone nearby to spot you. Got it?”

The kids all nodded in understanding.

“You could avoid danger altogether if you just stay lazy.” Robbie grumbled. Sportacus chuckled.

“I think I wanna stay on ground for now,” Trixie said, “Who wants to play soccer?”

With that, the children ran off for the fields, Stingy calling that Trixie _had_ to be on _his_ team. Sportacus watched them go before looking up at Robbie again. Robbie was staring at him like he’d never seen Sportacus before.

“Don’t _twist_ my words to teach them life lessons,” Robbie said.

“But you’re right. They shouldn’t be climbing trees in the first place but if they ever do, they need an adult around.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s _part_ of what you said.”

“Not the important part!”

“They can’t stay inside all day just to avoid getting hurt.”

Robbie rolled his eyes, “They don’t have to stay _inside_. Even _I_ come out sometimes. They just have to be _lazy_.”

Sportacus shook his head, “Sometimes doing something is worth the risk if you know you’re going to have fun.”

Robbie stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he looked away. His face looked a little flushed and Sportacus could hear his heart again. It was then Sportacus remembered he was still in Robbie’s arms. Was Robbie getting tired?

“You can put me down now,” Sportacus said.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah,” Robbie tilted to one side to let Sportacus’ legs go first. He released Sportacus and the elf stood up, steadying himself by grabbing Robbie’s shoulder.

Sportacus didn’t let go as he turned to Robbie properly, “Thank you, by the way. That could have been… very bad.”

Robbie shrugged and stepped backward out of Sportacus’ grasp. “Whatever.” He moved passed Sportacus and began gathering up his discarded costume.

“I mean it,” Sportacus followed him. “If you hadn’t been here I could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“You would have been fine. You’re always fine.”

Sportacus snorted, “No I’m not. I can get hurt.”

“Not in my experience.”

“Why won’t you accept my thanks? You did something good today!”

“Don’t _remind_ me.” Robbie scooped up a scarf and added it to the pile of clothing in his arms, “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to… leave.”

And he took off in the opposite direction of the kids. It was a brisk walk at best but for Robbie it was nearly a run. Sportacus watched him go, shaking his head, before turning around and heading for the soccer field.

* * *

 

Back in his lair, Robbie threw his outfit at the disguise machine and glared at his reflection in the glass.

“What was _that_?!” he yelled. “I could have done better that _that_! I should have told him he _owed_ me for saving him and in return he would have to leave town FOR _EVER_!” His voice echoed around the bunker. With a noise of disgust, he stomped up to his armchair and threw himself onto it. He crossed his arms and pouted, “Not only did my scheme not work, but _now_ I’ve missed a golden opportunity. And to make matters worse,” he felt his face heat up again, “he told the brats I was _right_ about something.”

That had never happened before. He had never directly _taught_ the kids anything Sportacus would support. The sports elf may have only partially agreed with what Robbie had said but still. Being right felt pretty good.

Robbie closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, suddenly feeling exhausted. Watching Sportacus fall had been very surreal. Before he had fully registered the strange sight, his legs were moving faster than he thought possible and he was catching the blue blur.

It had been… almost pleasant to be on that side of the rescue process. To be the one saving the day. To be the one to save Sportacus.

He shook his head as if throwing off the whole experience. “I’m going to glue that kitten to the ground myself,” Robbie declared. He threw his legs over an arm of his chair and turned on the TV. It was probably a good idea to stop thinking for a while, before his mind moved into dangerous territory.

* * *

 

Ziggy had barely stopped staring at Sportacus since they started playing soccer. It seemed that every time Sportacus looked up, Ziggy was giving him a grave look. When it was time for a water break, Ziggy sat away from everyone else, pensive gaze on his water bottle. Sportacus sat next to him on the grass beside the goal.

“Are you okay, Ziggy?” he asked.

Ziggy jumped like he hadn’t realized Sportacus was there. He flashed a too-wide grin at the hero, “Me? Yeah!”

“Do I have something in my teeth?” Sportacus asked, making a face to bare his teeth.

“No-”

“Or something on my face?” He poked and prodded at his cheeks.

Ziggy giggled, “No.”

“Is there something wrong with my hat? Or my mustache?” He patted his hat with one hand and his upper lip with the other. Ziggy laughed properly at that. Sportacus smiled, “Then why do you keep looking at me?”

The laughter faded and Ziggy frowned at his bottle again. He leaned his head on Sportacus’ arm but didn’t look at him, “It was scary to see you fall today.”

“I’m fine, Ziggy.”

“But what if something like that happens again and Robbie isn’t there to save you?” Ziggy wound both arms around Sportacus’ one, “I wish there was a hero for heroes.”

Sportacus really wanted to tell Ziggy not to worry, that nothing like that would happen again, but it would be an impossible promise to keep. Even elves could be victims of bad luck.

As gently as he could, Sportacus slid his arm out of Ziggy’s grasp and put it around the boy’s shoulders instead. “You all have helped me out plenty of times,” he said, “I like to think I have five heroes-in-training to keep an eye on me.”

Ziggy giggled, “You mean we’re all _your_ heroes?”

“Absolutely!”

Finally Ziggy looked up at him. He was grinning for real now, “Does that mean Robbie is a hero too?! Since he saved you today?!”

Sportacus chucked, “I think so.”

Just like that, Ziggy seemed to be back to normal. He gave Sportacus a hug before running towards the rest of the kids, “Guys, guess what? We’re _all_ heroes! Even _Robbie_!”

There was an instant uproar from the kids and Sportacus had to laugh. He found himself looking off in the direction he knew Robbie’s lair was in. How would he react to Ziggy thinking of him as a hero? Sportacus hoped he could be there when and if Ziggy ever said it to his face.

Ziggy’s sober mood still hung in the air, however. He and the others had been shaken by him falling like that. Sportacus himself wasn’t unaffected either.

Since coming to Lazy Town, Robbie’s schemes and tricks had sometimes left Sportacus in precarious situations. He recalled the time Robbie had catapulted soccer balls at him while he hung off his airship. At least then, while the kids far below him organized a way to get him sports candy, Sportacus had had the time to mentally prepare himself (and his magic) if things went south (literally).

This time, he’d had no such warning. This time, he could have easily injured himself. Not badly, but an injured hero was no good to anyone. Sportacus wrapped his arms around himself. It had been a very, _very_ long time since he had needed saving.

Robbie popped into his thoughts again and Sportacus frowned. Since when had the man been so _strong_? Had it just been adrenaline? It hit Sportacus, not for the first time, how much he didn’t know about Robbie.

“Sportacus! Ready to start?”

He jumped at Stephanie’s voice. Shaking his head, he stood up, “You bet!”

 


	2. Blueprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus bothers Robbie at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was sick but now I'm back! Here is the long awaited fluff and the scene that made me giggle to write.
> 
> As always, let me know if you see any errors or typos.

Night crept in around soccer the field slowly, like it regretted having to stop the fun. One by one, the kids left, called in by their families for dinner. The last to leave was Stephanie, who helped Sportacus put all the equipment away.

“Good night, Sportacus!” She called as she left, “See you tomorrow!”

“Sleep well!” He called back. He began doing backflips back to the ladder of the ship. Once there, he held onto the bottom rung and took one last look around town. His eyes lingered on the tree by the park.

Thoughts from earlier came back to him. Robbie’s expression when he’d been trying to ask if Sportacus was alright, his heart beating in Sportacus’ ear, his clipped ‘Whatever’; it all brought home how much of a mystery Robbie was. Yes Robbie loved being lazy and hated healthy food, but apart from that Sportacus had nothing to go on. It had bothered him before but now it felt like an itch demanding to be scratched

Frowning, Sportacus let go of the ladder and turned toward the edge of town.

* * *

 

Night time was Robbie’s favorite. Thanks to the kids and Sportaflop needing a ‘healthy’ amount of sleep, night time was wonderfully quiet and peaceful.

Robbie hated to sleep through it.

Humming contently to himself, Robbie stirred his mug of hot chocolate and sat down at his work table. In front of him were blueprints for his newest invention. It needed a lot of touching up but if he didn’t run out of hot chocolate mix, he could easily finish it tonight.

Just as he put pen to paper, a banging sound echoed around the bunker. Robbie froze, looking over his shoulder to the pipe leading to the hatch. After a few seconds, there was more banging.

Robbie’s mind spun like a roulette wheel, trying to think of who could be out at this hour.  Not one of the brats, the Mayor had no business with him, and Bessie would never walk all the way out here in the dark. With a sigh, Robbie got up and took a look inside the periscope. Sure enough, there was Sportaflip, standing by the entrance to Robbie’s home.

“I have done nothing to deserve this,” Robbie muttered to himself as the elf knocked again. He could ignore him until he went away but the continued banging was liable to give Robbie a headache. Cursing under his breath, Robbie made his way up the pipe to the hatch.

The hatch opened with a creak and Robbie placed his elbows on the rim, trying his best to look as annoyed as possible. It was never hard in Sportacus’ presence.

“Yes?” He prompted.

“Um, hey, Robbie,” the elf said, folding and unfolding his hands in front of him, “Can I… come in?”

Part of Robbie wanted to laugh in his face and shut the hatch and get back to his hot chocolate. But another part, probably the same part that had urged him to catch Sportacus earlier, was curious, “Why?”

“I just want to talk.”

“You’re not here to check if I’m eating a balanced dinner, are you?”

Sportacus chuckled, “No, I’m not.”

Robbie thought about it for a moment before he snorted, “Fine. But this better not take long. I have important things to do.” With that, he dropped back down into his lair, “Close the door behind you!” he called up when he landed.

There was a _thunk_ as Sportacus did just that. He tumbled out of the pipe and did a forward roll before landing gracefully on his feet.

Robbie rolled his eyes, “I _really_ don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve this.”

Sportacus was staring around his bunker and asked distractedly, “What did you say?”

“Nothing. What did you want?”

“Hm? Oh, right,” Sportacus focused back on Robbie, “I wanted to thank you again for saving me.”

“Are you still hung up on that?” Never mind the fact that Robbie had been unable to get the phrase ‘ _I’m lucky he was here_ ’ out of his head all afternoon.

“A little bit.”

“You thanked me already.”

“Yes but I wanted to say it again. You didn’t really… accept it before.”

“Alright then, you’re welcome. Is that all you wanted to hear? Are we done?”

“No! I also wanted to ask, uh,” He was looking away from Robbie completely now, as if he was looking for something, “I wanted to know what— what are you working on?” He pointed at the work table still littered with bolts and papers.

Robbie raised an eyebrow and contemplated the risk and rewards of entertaining this conversation much further. On the one hand, night time was Robbie time; time to enjoy some silence and gorge on sweets without someone judging his food choices. On the other hand…

_“Sometimes doing something is worth the risk if you know you’re going to have fun.”_

“This is probably some kind of trick but you’ve caught me in a good mood,” Robbie said. He pushed passed Sportacus to the work table and picked up the blueprints, “This is a self-fueling paint brush.” Sportacus joined him at the table and looked at the plans, “Basically it’s like a pen but for paint. No more dragging around different colors. They’d all be in the brush!”

“Interesting!” Sportacus proclaimed, “But wouldn’t you need to swap out the brush heads? If you didn’t, the colors would all mix together before they got to the canvass.”

“Of course I thought of that!” Robbie said briskly. Nothing got to the blueprint stage until he had figured out every facet of an invention. Did Sportacus think he was some kind of amateur? The flippy dip had been hanging around children too much. “There is a tab near the top that switches out the brush along with the paint, so every color has its own head.”

“Wow!”

Robbie looked over at Sportacus, sure he was being patronized. But Sportacus was looking at the blueprints with open admiration. The elf had always worn his heart on his sleeve. Robbie smirked in spite of himself, “Is this the real reason you came all the way out here past your bedtime?”

* * *

 

Sportacus had never been able to properly look around Robbie’s home before. It was much colder than he remembered it being. Maybe that’s why Robbie wore long sleeves all the time? There were certainly a lot of things to look at; the disguise machine, all the inventions scattered around, the work table. He wondered how Robbie could have possibly made all of this by himself.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince Robbie to let him in. Sportacus had been prepared to argue his way inside. Maybe Robbie was a bit lonelier than he let on.

So many maybes…

At Robbie’s question, Sportacus crossed his arms, “It’s not past my bedtime. It’s barely 7.”

“But did you really come down here just to hear about my inventions?”

“… Partially?”

“And the other part?”

Sportacus took a few steps back from the table. How to phrase this? “I want to… get to know you better.”

Robbie stared at him.

“I mean, I’ve been in this town for a long time now—”

“Trust me, I’m _aware_.”

“—but I still don’t know a lot about you.”

Robbie shrugged and threw the brush blueprint on the table, “What’s to know? I’m the town villain.”

“There’s more to you than that! That’s like saying all I am is a slightly-above-average hero,” he cocked his head, “What do _you_ really know about me?”

“You’re a flipping menace.”

“Anything else?”

“You can’t eat sugar or sit still,” Robbie scratched his cheek, eyes fixed on something across the bunker, “You’re a terrible liar…” Another shrug, “That’s all I’ve got.”

“And I know even _less_ about _you_. See what I mean? I think we should get to know each other better.”

“Why? We’ve just established that you’re the hero and I’m the villain. What’s the point in ‘getting to know each other’?”

Sportacus opened his mouth, then shut it. He didn’t have an answer. Actually he had several answers but none of them sounded good enough. Time to change the question. “If you’re such a villain, then why did you catch me today?”

The table creaked as Robbie leaned back against it. He was the picture of casual but had yet to look Sportacus in the eye. “If you had gotten hurt I would have had five screaming kids on my hands. No one deserves that.”

“Ziggy said he’s never seen you move so fast.”

“He’s never been between me and a chocolate cake.”

Sportacus had to laugh, “See? That right there. Chocolate cake is your favorite?”

“Chocolate with vanilla frosting.”

“I did not know that.”

“There’s no reason for you to.”

“I just told you! I _want_ to know!”

Robbie sighed and held out his arms, “Fine then, shoot! What else do you want to know about me? My shirt size? What color my tooth brush is?”

It was clear Robbie was just humoring him. How could Sportacus get him to _truly_ start talking? His eyes fell on the work table behind Robbie again.

“What other inventions do you have?”

Robbie’s arms fell, “Excuse me?”

“Aside from the brush. What else are you working on?”

“Why do you keep asking that?”

It was Sportacus’ turn to shrug, “You seem to like talking about them. And to be honest it’s nice to hear you talk about something other than being lazy or running me out of town.”

For a moment, Robbie was silent, staring at Sportacus with puzzlement. Sportacus half expected to be ordered out.

Finally Robbie spoke, “The brush is the only thing I’m making at the moment,” he sighed, “But I _suppose_ I can tell you how I plan to make it.”

If he wasn’t so sure it would make Robbie mad, Sportacus would have done a star jump. It was working! Robbie was opening up, ever so slightly. With a bright grin, he all but jumped back to Robbie’s side, “What do you plan to call it? You always have fun names for the stuff you make.”

“Naming comes _later_ , idiot elf.”

“Does that just mean you haven’t thought of one yet?”

“…Shut up.”

“How about the Colornator 5000?”

“That makes no sense! It has more than five colors! If anything it would be the Colornator 8000. Also I’m not calling it that.”

“The Brush Up 8000?” Sportacus jumped up to sit on the table.

“No,” Robbie shooed him down again before sitting on the bench beside the table.

Sportacus sat next to him, “Why not?”

“Because I’m not taking naming advice from someone named _Sportacus_. Now did you want to hear how I make things or not?”

Sportacus chuckled but decided to stop pushing his luck. Instead, he pointed at the blueprint, “So how long is the handle going to have to be to hold all this?”

“Most of it’s going to be in the hand grip. See this line here? That leads you to a box where I’ve mapped out the grip in detail…”

* * *

 

Talking to Sportakook should have been a nightmare filled with random back flips and accented pieces of health advice. Instead, Robbie found Sportacus to be a great audience. He asked mostly intelligent questions and seemed to really be listening to Robbie. In explaining the brush and how he planned to put it together, Robbie referenced other inventions of his around the lair, which lead to questions about those as well. It felt… nice to be able to explain his machines to someone. Robbie loved inventing almost as much as he loved sweets. It had been his passion since childhood. To finally have someone to listen to him rant (and to maybe gloat to a bit) was refreshing.

As the night went on, little by little, Robbie started to believe that Sportacus was telling truth. That he actually _wanted_ to learn about Robbie. Trickery wasn’t Sportacus’ style but Robbie wouldn’t have been surprised if this was just an elaborate way to get into his lair and hide fruit everywhere. Surprisingly, Sportacus hadn’t said a word about his eating habits. Even when Robbie left to reheat his nearly-forgotten hot chocolate, the health nut let him do so without comment.

“What do you plan to do with this anyway?” Sportacus asked. The elf had his arms folded on the table top and was resting his head on them. Robbie vaguely wondered what time it was. How long had they been talking?

“I’m not sure yet.”

Sportacus hummed in response, his eyes on Robbie’s hands. Robbie was carving a length of wood to use as the handle. “What color are you going to make it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought you said you planned this out?”

“I planned out the _important_ things,” Robbie said. Sportacus gave an airy chuckle as he went on, “I _planned_ on using wood for the handle because the brush needs to be light enough to pick up. A lot of paint is going in here so I need to cut weight where I can.” Robbie turned in his seat to look through the toolbox at his feet, “Even more important than the _color_ is the balance. It takes time to get it right and if I take off too much wood, I have to start all over.” He turned back around, holding up the next tool he needed, “But if it’s _so_ important to you, I was considering purple, since, you know, it’s _me_ , or… going with…”

Robbie let the rest of his sentence fade as he faced Sportacus. The hero’s eyes were closed and Robbie could hear him breathing evenly. A glance at the clock next to the disguise machine revealed that it was nearly 10pm. Little wonder the elf had fallen asleep. Robbie would be more offended that Sportacus had drifted off while he was talking but they _had_ been at it for a while. And Sportacus would normally have been asleep hours ago.

Robbie put his tools away and placed the half-finished handle on the table. Quietly as he could, he stood from the bench and crossed his arms, staring at Sportacus.

What do you do with a sleeping elf?

If he had fallen asleep just sitting there, there was no way he would be awake enough to walk back to his airship. He’d probably pass out in the middle of the field. And Robbie couldn’t carry him there either. That would require going up the pipe with one hand, which was difficult with non-living cargo, never mind a whole person. There was only one thing for it.

Robbie let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. If he had known letting Sportacus inside his home would result in a _sleepover_ , he never would have said yes.

Probably.

Carefully, Robbie slid his arms around Sportacus and picked him up, holding him just as he had earlier. Sportacus’ cheek, just like before, was pressed against his chest above his heart. He let out a soft sigh through his nose as Robbie moved him but didn’t wake up.

Robbie couldn’t hold back a small smile. Normally the hero was an impressive figure; either saving someone or stopping Robbie’s plans or pulling off some over-the-top sports maneuver. But now, asleep in Robbie’s arms, Sportacus looked… small. Not _helpless_ , however. Robbie was sure if his crystal went off that Sportacus could jump to his feet and be ready to go. For now, the crystal was quiet, and Sportacus was free to nuzzle into Robbie’s chest and _no wait NO he was NOT_.

Shaking his head, Robbie walked over to his armchair. He kicked the handle so the chair would recline before placing Sportacus on it. The chair was big enough to house Robbie’s lanky frame. With Sportacus nestled inside instead, it almost looked like he was being taken over by orange. Sportacus curled in on himself as Robbie stepped away. Living underground for so long had made Robbie resistant to the bunker’s chill, but apparently Sportacus was not so lucky.

“This is probably taking a _serious_ toll on my villain credibility,” Robbie muttered. He grabbed a blanket (not his favorite purple one, a green one he _almost_ remembered making) and threw it over Sportacus. He leaned over the other, rearranging the blanket to cover the whole elf.

Robbie was tucking the blanket up to Sportacus’ chin, when, without warning, Sportacus leaned forward as well. Robbie froze as Sportacus rested his forehead against Robbie’s own.

Blue eyes opened a fraction. “It’s been a long time since someone carried me,” Sportacus said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse.

Robbie swallowed, “Liar. It’s only been a few hours.”

Sportacus smiled and closed his eyes again, “It’s nice…”

His head fell back to the side against the chair and he was sound asleep once again. Robbie stayed where he was for a moment, blinking rapidly. Finally, he shook himself and straightened, rubbing his forehead absently.

Almost robotically, he moved away from the chair and into his unused bedroom. He had long ago stripped the bed frame for parts and now his bed was just a mattress in the middle of a stone floor. The recliner was infinitely more comfortable, not that he got much sleep anyway. As soon as Robbie stepped inside, he closed the door and rested back against it.

“Really, what did I _do_?!” He groaned as he slid to the floor.


	3. Peculiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Robbie's turn to learn about Sportacus. And the kids have some things to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than the other two combined and as much as that aggravates me in terms of trying to keep things even, I'm pretty sure you readers won't mind one bit. The next chapter might take longer. With my brother visiting for Passover, I won't have as much time to write this coming week. I hope you all can wait for me.
> 
> Also, side note, the word Frisbee is copyrighted? Is that a Thing people just Know? I had to look it up. 
> 
> As always, please tell me if you spot any errors!

It was past noon when Robbie, red eyed and yawning, stumbled out of his bedroom. The night had not been kind to him. With Sportacus asleep in the armchair, Robbie had decided he was done working for the evening. He had fallen face first onto the mattress, running the whole bizarre day over in his head in an attempt to figure out how his life had come to this. It had taken him hours to fall asleep.

At around three in the morning, Robbie had woken up with a start as a thought occurred to him.

“Why didn’t I tie him up or something?!” he had said, running his hands through his hair in aggravation, “He’s in my _home_. I don’t even have to trap him! I could have— have—”

He stopped. Could have what? Tied Sportacus up and locked him away? The last thing he wanted was a permanent house guest. Perhaps he could have dragged him out of town himself? But that wouldn’t keep Sportacus away. And it sounded like a lot of work. Plus it would involve having to pick up Sportacus again, which the elf apparently… liked.

Robbie had rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow. “If I find out he was only pretending to be asleep I’m going to pour sugar straight into his eye sockets,” he had grumbled into it.

Now, still tired and not at all ready to begin the day, Robbie stood in the middle of his lair and noticed an absence of blue. The armchair was empty, the blanket neatly folded on the seat. Robbie did a full turn in place, staring around the bunker, just be sure he was alone.

“Hello?” He called out, “Sportakook?”

His voice echoed around the lair, unanswered.

Robbie let out a deep sigh and cracked his neck. He had been dreading facing Sportacus, whom he knew for a fact was a morning person. Robbie wasn’t sure he could have kept his temper in the face of so much energy so early in the day.

He walked to the kitchen, intent on finding something sweet to start his day, and stopped when he saw the kitchen counter.

“I _knew it_.”

On the counter was a plate stacked with pancakes. Not just any pancakes— there was something in them. Something dark and round.

“Where did he even _get_ blueberries?!” Robbie yelled, stomping over to the plate, “Can elves just _manifest_ fruit out of nothing? _Ridiculous_.”

Of course Sportacus has only been here to make him eat sports candy! Of course he had no interest in Robbie whatsoever! All those lies about wanting to get to know Robbie, asking about his inventions, trying to name the self-fueling paint brush, complimenting him—

A wonderful scent hit Robbie’s nose as he picked up the plate of pancakes. Something smelled like… chocolate? He looked down at the pancakes. The dark spots weren’t blueish purple, but brown. Each pancake was studded with chocolate chips.

It was then Robbie spotted the note on the counter that had been lying next to the plate. Perplexed, he shifted the pancakes to one hand and opened the note with the other.

 

 

> _Robbie,_
> 
> _Sorry I fell asleep on you last night. I was going to wake you up before I left but it was pretty early for you. I hope we get a chance to talk again soon!_
> 
> _Until then, enjoy breakfast on me._
> 
> _-Sportacus_

Robbie read the note a few times before putting it back down. He sniffed the pancakes again before putting them on the counter too. Robbie could believe a lot of things but Sportacus handling _chocolate_ just to make Robbie breakfast?

“They’re raisins,” he declared to the empty kitchen, “Or blackberries. He just rubbed chocolate on them or something.”

His stomach gave a loud grumble.

“Oh _fine_.”

No sense in wasting good pancakes no matter how dubious. He pulled butter and syrup from the fridge and covered the pancakes in them. No matter what was in the pancakes now, they would be edible at least. Robbie picked up the plate once more and made his way to the armchair. Once he was settled, he cut a large chunk of pancake and stuck it in his mouth, expecting the worst.

Instead, he tasted chocolate surrounded by fluffy, syrupy pancake. He hummed contently and took another large bite. He never would have guessed Sportacus could _cook_ like this.

The third fork full stopped half way to his mouth and he looked at the pancakes. Robbie took a moment to mentally add “competent cook” to his short list of things he knew about Sportacus. Right under “favorite color is most likely blue”.

Perhaps it was high time he expanded that list.

* * *

 

Sportacus closed the hatch to Robbie’s lair as quietly as he could. The night had gone a lot better than he ever expected. Robbie had so much to say about his work. He had even been pretty patient with Sportacus’ questions.

Most surprisingly, Robbie hadn’t made a big deal out of Sportacus sleeping over. Sportacus felt his face heat up. That hadn’t been part of his plan. Robbie picking him up had _definitely_ not been of the plan. That had been… really nice.

Sportacus smiled, remembering Robbie tucking him in and being so gentle. What would it take for that side of him to come out more?

There would be time to think of that later, he reasoned. Presently, his clothes were covered in pancake mix. Robbie’s kitchen was so unfamiliar to him and making breakfast had been harder than he thought. Unable to wipe away his grin, Sportacus took off for his airship.

An hour later he had showered, changed, and eaten a healthy breakfast. When he dropped back into town, he found the kids in the park playing with a Frisbee.

“Is that your third or fourth one, Ziggy?” Pixel was asking as Sportacus approached.

“Third!” Ziggy declared proudly.

Trixie caught the Frisbee thrown by Stingy, “Why didn’t you tell us yesterday?”

“I forgot! First Robbie was here, then Sportacus fell, and I just forgot all about it until dinner.”

It was then that Sportacus realized he was eavesdropping. He jumped over the low wall and into the park, “Hey, guys!”

“Sportacus!” Ziggy ran up, the Frisbee sailing right past him, “Sportacus! Guess what?!” He opened his mouth wide and poked a tooth in his bottom row. It moved slightly when he did so.

“You have a loose tooth!” Sportacus ruffled Ziggy’s hair, “That’s great news, Ziggy!”

“I can’t wait for it to fall out!”

Trixie waved a hand in the air, “I can help you there!”

With an alarmed sound, Ziggy stepped around to hide behind Sportacus, “No, no, that’s okay, Trixie.”

Sportacus laughed, “So what are we playing today?”

“We were playing with _my_ Frisbee.”

There was some arguing about whose Frisbee with actually was. It was only when Stephanie got fed up and retrieved the Frisbee that the game resumed.

Throwing the disk didn’t require much mental effort and Sportacus felt his mind wander multiple times. He kept running over in his head all the things he had learned just by visiting Robbie for a night.

It wasn’t even just the things Robbie had told him, though that was also important. It was also the little things. The kitchen cabinet beside his fridge was filled with different kinds of cookbooks, organized by both type and title. His dishtowels were all purple except one that was white and dotted with sunflowers. There was a file cabinet next to his worktable containing the blue prints to everything he had ever made. His tool box was dotted with bug stickers.

His armchair was the softest, most comfortable thing Sportacus had ever slept on. And it had smelled like Robbie. Like chocolate and metal and then Sportacus had leaned on him and smelled the wood dust from when he’d been carving the handle and it had all been so unfamiliar but nice at the same time and—

“Sportacus!”

Sportacus blinked rapidly to jog himself back to reality just as the disk went flying passed him. He jumped and did a back flip to catch the Frisbee before it went too far. He landed, stumbling slightly, and held up the Frisbee, “Got it!”

The kids cheered. He tossed the disk to Pixel and felt something on his sleeve tear as he did. He held up his arm and saw he had torn the seam of his shirt under his armpit. Again. He sighed. One of these days he would have to learn how to fix clothes properly.

But he’d worry about that later. He doubted the kids would notice a small tear in his uniform. Besides, there was a Frisbee flying at him again and he intended to pay it more attention than last time.

* * *

 

Robbie’s morning (afternoon) had started great, with a plate of free (perfectly cooked, gone too quickly) pancakes. The problem came when he decided to nap.

Shortly after licking the syrup from the empty plate, Robbie decided he deserved more rest. He curled up on his side, pressing his face into the orange of the chair, and left out a sigh.

On the corresponding inhale he smelled it. The chair, _his chair_ , had a _new_ scent. Robbie reared back in shock, rubbing his nose. Hesitantly, he leaned over and sniffed again. It smelled like grass, like sweat, like summer, like…

Sportacus.

Robbie wrinkled his nose. He wanted so very badly to be repulsed, to regret ever allowing the elf to sleep here. But the scent was oddly soothing. Robbie experimentally lay back down on his side again. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

Maybe it was because he had been up too late last night on a horrible bed. Maybe it was because the smell reminded him of the very idea of moving around, which was exhausting. Maybe it was because his stomach was full of good food.

For whatever reason, Robbie fell asleep quickly, and he slept well.

* * *

 

“Can I ask you all something?”

The kids looked up at Sportacus. They were all taking a water break by the slide.

“Sure, Sportacus," Stephanie answered.

“I was wondering…” Sportacus paused, trying to think of how to ask this, “What was Robbie like before I came to Lazytown?”

Stephanie frowned, “Well I wouldn’t know about that,” she looked to the others.

Trixie shrugged, “He was the same, I guess. Lazy. Always wanted us to be quiet.”

“But since I wasn’t here, he had no reason to come up and play tricks on you all, right?” Sportacus said, “Or has he always done that?”

“Oh, no,” Stingy shook his head, “He never played with us before you showed up. We didn’t see him a lot.”

Sportacus was able to stop himself from giggling but he couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face. The kids saw Robbie’s tricks as ‘playing’ with them. Robbie would probably not think that was so amusing.

“I don’t know _what_ he did before he started trying to get you to leave Lazytown,” Trixie said.

“I think he’s always made machines, though.”

Everyone looked over at Pixel. The boy smiled as he explained, clearly pleased by the memory, “One time, my computer broke and I didn’t have the part I needed to fix it. I was pretty bummed out so I went for a walk to think about what to do and Robbie was out walking too and asked why I looked sad. After I told him, he just pulled out the part I needed from his pocket and gave it to me!”

Stephanie’s eyes went wide, “He just _gave_ it to you? For _nothing_?”

“Well, he told me it was better than having to hear me cry about it.”

Stingy was just saying, “He just _had_ the right part with—” when Ziggy interrupted, “I know he liked to bake a lot!”

“He still bakes now. He’s always eating sweets,” Stephanie pointed out.

“Yeah, but I mean he would bake for _us_ ,” Ziggy said, “Like, for my 5th birthday, mom didn’t have time to make me a cake so she asked him to make it. It was really good! He even spelled my name right!”

“Hey, you’re right Ziggy!” Trixie said, “I remember he always made cookies for town meetings and stuff. I wonder why he stopped doing that?”

“I just thought he was _always_ a villain…” Stephanie said, playing with the cap of her water bottle. She had a thoughtful look on her face. Sportacus could relate. The more he learned about Robbie the more questions he had.

Trixie shrugged, “He _was_ a villain. He’s the one who was always getting us to stay inside. He just used to do other stuff too.”

“I wonder why he stopped?” Stingy mused.

“Oh that’s easy!” Ziggy said confidently, “It’s because we have a hero in town now! So Robbie has to act _extra_ villain-y.”

Was that right? Sportacus frowned, thinking it over. It would make sense that Robbie would play more to his ‘role’ with an opposing force around. Although, it was sad to think that Robbie could have been a completely different person before Sportacus showed up.

“That’s no excuse!”

Stephanie’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. He turned to see her crossing her arms and glaring off in the general direction of Robbie’s home.

“What do you mean?” Pixel asked.

“He doesn’t get to be mean just because someone in town disagrees with him! If he wants to make cookies or help fix stuff, he _can_. No one’s stopping him. He just needs to stop stopping _us_.” She drew her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, still glaring. “We all know he’s a big softy anyway. He doesn’t _need_ to be a villain.”

Ziggy scooted closer to her, “But- but if he didn’t play the villain, how would he play with us?”

“Yeah!” Trixie added, “He always seems like he has fun playing the bad guy.”

Stephanie huffed, “I guess…”

“You’re right though,” Pixel said, scooting closer to her other side, “It would be nice if he was nice like before.”

“It was nice of him to catch Sportacus yesterday,” Stingy said, “Maybe we just need to put Sportacus in danger more often.”

“Stingy!”

“I’m just _kidding_ , Trixie. _Yesh_.”

“You do know I’m still here, right?” Sportacus said, waving a hand at them.

“Of course I do,” Stingy declared with a roll of his eyes, “Now are we going to sit around all day or are we going to play with _my_ Frisbee?” He hopped off the low wall and raced to where they had left the disk.

“Hey, wait up!” Ziggy jumped up and ran over as well, followed by Trixie and Pixel. Sportacus leapt to his feet too, but stopped when he noticed Stephanie hadn’t moved. He crouched back down again.

“Are you coming?”

She looked up at him, “I never thought about what Robbie was like before we got here. Is that bad? Am I selfish?”

“No! Of course not,” He settled next to her, “I only started really thinking about it yesterday. You’re not selfish.”

 She sighed, “I wish I could have met him back when he was nicer to everyone.”

“You said it yourself, he can still be like that. Maybe he just needs some encouragement.”

“How can we do that?”

“I don’t know yet.” He ruffled her hair, “But I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

She giggled as she fixed her hair, “Thanks, Sportacus.” She jumped to her feet, “Ready to go?”

He got up as well, and together they set off to join the others.

* * *

 

Robbie woke up slowly, stretching and yawning his way into awareness. The smell of grass still tickled his nose. He stood up from the chair, scratching his head. His eyes caught the clock and he froze. Midnight. He’d practically slept the whole day.

“Finally!” He cried triumphantly, “A good nap without those brats waking me up every few seconds.”

He felt energized. A good meal and a good sleep. It was doing him wonders. He all but skipped over to his work table. The kids would be long asleep by now.

“Now I have a whole night to work on the brush,” he said to himself. Robbie picked up the wooden handle from last night and used his foot to kick the tool box open, “Once the handle is done, I can start working on the parts that go inside it, since I’ll know what dimensions I’m working with. The only thing I’m not certain of is what to make the grip—”

His voice echoed around the lair again. Instead of it being a source of comfort like earlier, it now made him freeze.

Who was he talking to? Who was he _explaining_ himself to?

Robbie turned to glare at the empty plate next to his chair, “I hate you,” he said to it. The plate did not respond.

Turning back to the table, Robbie signed and rubbed his temples. After last night, he too closely associated this invention with Sportacus.  He still felt like he should be talking someone through his process.

For hours he worked on the brush. Carving, soldering, wiring, rewiring, scribbling on the blueprints, cutting the brush hairs; it all kept him busy and his mind far away from Sportacus. 

Until about 6am.

When Robbie realized he had no paint to fill the brush with.

“Are you _kidding me_?” He tore through drawer after drawer looking for anything even in the vague shape of a tub of paint. Each time, he came up empty handed. And the craft store wouldn’t open for two more hours.

Robbie moved to the kitchen instead. Maybe this was a sign that he needed a break. It was very tempting to press a few buttons and have a cake made for him, but he had time to kill and a mind to distract. He rolled up his sleeves. It had been a while since he’d made something from scratch.

By the time 8am rolled around, Robbie had made a batch of chocolate cupcakes topped with purple-tinted vanilla frosting. He stuffed one whole into his mouth before climbing his way up and out the hatch.

It, of course, was raining. Why wouldn’t it be.

It would be a lot of effort to climb back down and get an umbrella he wasn’t even sure he owned. At least no brats would see him traipsing through the rain like an idiot. The town was empty, no kids and no elves to bother him. Hopefully the rain would keep up and it would be a quiet day for once.

Robbie half jogged, half sped-walked to the craft store in the shop district of Lazytown. When he could, he dodged under trees to avoid getting thoroughly soaked. By the time he made it to the store, he was gasping for breath. That was potentially the most physically active he had been all week. How did the children do this _every day_?

He grabbed the paint he needed and rushed to the counter. It was only once he paid and was at the doors ready to leave that he noticed someone waiting outside. A blue hatted, mustached someone holding a pink umbrella.

Rolling his eyes, Robbie threw open the glass double doors as dramatically as he could (with a plastic bag on his arm and still soggy from before) and said, “I thought everything you owned was blue?”

* * *

 

Sportacus laughed at the question, “This is Stephanie’s. She let me borrow it last time it rained and I keep forgetting to return it.”

“I should have guessed. What are you doing here?”

Sportacus stepped forward so the umbrella covered Robbie as well, “I happened to look out the window and see you running here, so I figured I could walk you back. Keep you dry.”

That was mostly the truth. In reality, he had been staring wistfully out the window since the rain had started early that morning, waiting for the sun to come out.

Robbie looked at Sportacus, up at the umbrella, out at the rain, and back again. He was probably weighing Sportacus’ company over running back through the downpour.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Sportacus smiled. Robbie disliked being active more than he disliked Sportacus! That had to be a step in the right direction. He began walking beside Robbie, making sure to keep the umbrella high enough for both of them.

“Sorry again for falling asleep on you,” Sportacus said.

“It’s fine. I got pancakes out of it.”

“How were they?”

“Decent. Well, okay, they were— good,” he cleared his throat, “You can cook.”

“It helped that you had pancake mix.”

“That’s not the point. I didn’t _know_ you could cook. Or even handle chocolate, which I’m still skeptical about. It made me realize you made _me_ do all the talking that night. I don’t know any more about you than I did two days ago,” Robbie’s voice turned from indignant to amused, “Except that you apparently don’t own your own umbrella, you ridiculous creature.”

“ _Apparently_ neither do you.”

“That’s different. I didn’t steal one from a child.”

“I didn’t steal it! She _let_ me borrow it.”

“Borrowed with permission but never returned. Sounds _very_ heroic.”

Sportacus elbowed Robbie lightly and Robbie’s mischievous smirk turned into a proper laugh.

“What do you want to know?”

Robbie hummed and looked around. Sportacus had struggled with this very thing the night before and waited patiently for Robbie to think of something. The sound of the rain seemed to grow louder in the silence. It smacked against the umbrella and thundered down the gutters of the stores they passed.

“What did you do to your shirt?”

It wasn’t the topic Sportacus would have picked but he answered nonetheless, “I ripped it while I was playing with the kids yesterday.”

“You ripped your sleeve off playing with children?”

“I didn’t rip it off. It tore a little on the seam and when I tried to fix it last night I… made it worse.”

“Why did you use black thread?”

“I ran out of blue. And white.”

Robbie snorted and stopped walking. He grabbed Sportacus’ wrist and held it up, inspecting the stitching around the sleeve. The black thread ran around almost the entire arm hole.

“Well that’s two things I know now.”

“Two?”

Robbie let go, “You can’t sew, and you also only own one shirt.”

“Actually I have two shirts,” Sportacus corrected, “But you’re probably right about the first one.”

“I _know_ I’m right about the first one,” he squinted at Sportacus, “Now that I’m looking for it, you’ve torn your uniform a lot.”

Sportacus didn’t have to look down at himself to know Robbie was right. The pants had a tear in the knee he had put a clumsy patch over and he had torn the hem of the shirt months ago.

“I didn’t exactly pack to stay in Lazytown as long as I have,” he explained, “I’m making due with what I brought.”

“You don’t _have_ to stick to two sets forever. You are aware that you’re allowed to buy new clothes, right?” Sportacus gave Robbie a pointed look. Robbie scoffed, “That’s _different_. I have over a dozen of this outfit. I’m not just switching between two. Besides, I have _many_ outfits to choose from.”

He started walking again and Sportacus moved to match his stride.

“Elves have a very… particular style when it comes to clothes—” Sportacus began.

“I think the word you mean is _peculiar_.”

Sportacus chuckled and elbowed Robbie again, “Don’t be mean.” But he had hit the villain too hard, and Robbie began stumbling into the street. “Sorry!” He reached out and grabbed Robbie’s hand, pulling him back upright under the umbrella.

“Sorry, Robbie,” Sportacus repeated, squeezing the man’s hand, “Are you okay?”

“Of-of course I am!” Robbie said, his face red. Was the chill of the rain starting to get to him? “I just slipped, that’s all.”

“I’ll be more careful,” Sportacus said.

“Whatever. Anyway. Elves dress weird, go on.”

This time Sportacus let the comment slide, “I just haven’t been able to find any other clothes I like. I’d probably have to go home to get more clothes I’m comfortable with. But you’re right, my sewing isn’t great. It might be time to give in soon.” He spun the umbrella absently, watching the water fly off it. There was a growing tightness in his chest that always accompanied thoughts of home.

He was dimly aware that he was still holding Robbie’s hand. Robbie had yet to let go too, so maybe it was okay. He needed something to ground him right now anyway.

To his surprise, Robbie actually started rubbing the back Sportacus’ hand with his thumb. Sportacus finally looked over at him. Robbie was watching Sportacus’ face but, upon making eye contact, fixed his gaze on the sidewalk.

“I would say ‘just go home, the town can survive a week without you’ but we both know that’s a lie at this point,” Robbie said,  “Besides, me telling you to leave town is nothing new so I’m sure you wouldn’t listen to me anyway. But,” he swallowed, “But maybe. I could. Teach you how to. Sew. That way you can keep your weird outfit in one piece longer.”

It was obvious that it had taken a lot for Robbie to make that offer. Sportacus didn’t want to embarrass him by making a big deal out of it but he was honestly gobsmacked. Sewing lessons from Robbie? Without some kind of ulterior motive? 

 “That would—I mean—You really—” Nope, his voice was too high, he was talking too fast. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I would really like that, Robbie. Thank you.”

Robbie sniffed, “Figured it’s about time I showed you I’m better at something than you are.”

“You already showed me that two nights ago. I can make up games with the kids but I can’t make _things_. Speaking of which,” Sportacus jerked his head at the bag in Robbie’s other hand, “is that for the Colornator 8000?”

“Yup. It will take a bit to fuel it and I need some extra to paint it in the first place so I grabbed—” He stopped talking and glared at Sportacus, “I am _not_ calling it that.”

“Whatever you say, Robbie.”

“I take back what I said about the pancakes, they were awful and so are you.”

Sportacus laughed. Robbie was doing a great show of looking annoyed, shaking his head and going on about how much of a nuisance Sportacus was, but Sportacus could see him smiling.

They had reached the more familiar parts of Lazytown now. They passed the playground and the park, all as wet and empty as when Sportacus had left. The billboard slowly came into view. Their walk would be over soon. Sportacus felt vaguely disappointed. Without his permission, he squeezed Robbie’s hand again.

“We can start sewing lessons later next week. I need to get some materials,” Robbie said, “Unless you think your clothes will disintegrate before that.”

“I think I can make it.”

They were at the hatch, Sportacus still holding the umbrella and Robbie still holding his bag of paint. And both still holding each other’s hand.

With great reluctance, Sportacus let go first, “Good luck finishing the brush.”

Robbie was looking at the hatch to his home, flexing his now free hand. His face was flushed again. A possible reason for that popped into Sportacus’ head without warning and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. He was probably wrong. Still, he felt his face heat up at the idea.

“Thank you for, you know, keeping me from needing to run home. With a stolen umbrella.” Robbie put the bag down at his feet and began opening the hatch.

“I’ll return it today. Will that make you stop calling it stolen?”

“Potentially.”

“Good enough.”

Robbie climbed into the pipe and, without another word, fell down into the bunker. Sportacus waited a few beats before leaning over the pipe, “Robbie…?” he called down, his amused smile leaking into his voice.

A moment later, Robbie popped back out again and grabbed his bag of paint. “I meant to do that!” And with that, he disappeared again, shutting the hatch behind him.

Shaking his head, Sportacus turned and began making his way toward Stephanie’s house. He was just passed the billboard when he heard the creak of the hatch behind him once more.

“Wait!”

Turning, he saw Robbie clambering out of the pipe, a plastic container in his hand.

“If you’re really going to see Pinky, give her these. Or to whoever you bother today.” Robbie pushed the container into Sportacus’ free hand, “I made too many. They’re— taking up too much room. Or something. _Whatever_ , bye.”

Just as quickly as he appeared, Robbie was gone with a slam of the hatch.

Perplexed, Sportacus looked inside the container. Four purple-frosted cupcakes sat neatly inside. With a smile, he resealed the container and continued on his way. He liked to think that, perhaps, he had just gotten a glimpse of the Robbie before Sportacus arrived in Lazytown. The Robbie that kindly gave Pixel a part for his computer. The Robbie that helped Ziggy’s mother with his birthday cake.

Maybe that was the same Robbie that saved Sportacus without hesitation. He hoped it was.

As he dodged puddles, Sportacus couldn’t get the image of Robbie’s red face out of his head.

 


	4. Rablo Ricasso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An artist comes to Lazytown wanting to paint the children. Sportacus isn't fooled for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the tags but just so you all know, there is mentions of blood in this chapter. Nothing gory or horrific or graphic but I just wanted to give you guys a heads up.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience! I know this took a bit to come out. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> And as always, let me know if there are any errors~  
> (HA ROTTENSOCKS I GOT MINE OUT FIRST)

A week. It had been a week since Sportacus had seen Robbie. A week since they had walked together in the rain. Sportacus rubbed his hand as he paced his airship, the same hand that had held Robbie’s for over half the walk. He paced and he thought.

It wasn’t like this was the first time Robbie had stayed underground this long. There were times where he was up almost every day yelling at Sportacus and the kids, and then there were stretches like this where no one would see him for a while. Sportacus knew he shouldn’t be so worried.

And yet, he paced.

A week ago, Robbie had seemed almost happy to be around Sportacus, had even offered him sewing lessons.  And now Sportacus hadn’t even seen him skulking around town or falling asleep on a bench. It couldn’t be good to stay inside for so long.

With a frown, he stopped his pacing and backflipped over to the door. It popped open at his command and he jumped out onto it, staring at Lazytown far below him. He knelt and took out his telescope, training it towards the ground. The kids were playing basketball, like they had been all morning. Everyone seemed okay there. He watched Trixie smack the ball out of Pixel’s hands and run down the court with it.

He scanned around town, seeing the Mayor painting Bessie’s front door while she sat beside him, filing her nails. He turned in place and looked outside of town. His telescope stopped at the billboard and stayed there. He tried to ignore the worry clawing at his nerves. There was no reason to overthink this.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door in the billboard opened and a tall man stepped out. He wore a black long sleeved shirt, a red cardigan wrapped around his neck, and a red beret. Under his arm was an easel and canvas. The man began walking towards town.

Sportacus grinned and shifted the telescope back towards the kids.

He had a feeling he knew what this ‘stranger’ was up to.

* * *

 

Trixie tried to pass the ball to Stephanie but didn’t quite make it. The ball hit the pavement a few times, not even reaching Stephanie, and eventually rolled away.

Ziggy, who had been playing scorekeeper, jumped up and called, “I’ll get it!”

Stephanie jogged over to Trixie, “You gotta put more power in your arms,” she said.

“I did! I threw it as hard as I could!”

“Yeah but you didn’t extend your arms all the way,” Stephanie said. “You have to throw really hard _and_ move your arms out,” She demonstrated, miming passing the ball to an invisible teammate.

“What’s the score anyway?” Stingy asked. The four of them looked down at where Ziggy was supposed to be keeping track of points with chalk. Instead they found doodles and scribbles, mostly of Ziggy in a heroic pose. Stingy groaned, Trixie rolled her eyes, and Stephanie giggled.

“According to my computer,” Pixel said, tapping at the screen on his wrist, “we’re tied, 3 to 3.”

“Not for long,” Trixie taunted, “ ‘Cause we’re gonna win!”

“Ha! In your dreams!” Stingy said, crossing his arms.

“Hey, everyone! Look who I just met!”

They turned to see Ziggy walking back toward the court with the basketball. Behind him was a stranger with an orange beard and mustache.

“Who are you?” Pixel asked once the pair was close enough.

The stranger smiled at them and bowed, “Hello! My name is Rablo Ricasso! Wonderful to meet you all!” He went around shaking everyone’s hands excitedly.

“Rablo Reekso is an artist!” Ziggy explained, bouncing in place as he spoke, “He wants to paint us!”

“Rablo _Ricasso_ ,” Rablo corrected flatly, “And yes!” He clapped his hands, “I go from town to town painting masterpieces. I must say, you children are the _picture_ of athletic and um… sporty! I simply _must_ paint you.”

Stingy’s eyes went wide, “You mean, I’d get to be in a masterpiece?”

“Yes indeed, my boy!”

“An _expensive_ masterpiece?”

Rablo’s smile grew, “Absolutely!”

Now Stingy was nearly bouncing on his toes, “W-what do you need us to do?!”

“Well, first I need to figure out where to paint you all.”

Rablo looked around the park. He sniffed the air, licked his finger to test the wind, walked around them twice, then finally said, “Ah _ha_!” and pointed at the low wall around the park. “The lighting, the background; it's  _perfect_! I’ll arrange you all over there. Come with me!”

“Wait!” Everyone looked back at Trixie who had taken the ball from Ziggy. “We’re in the middle of a game!”

Pixel shrugged, “We can take a break.”

“But—”

“Come now! Chop chop!” Rablo interrupted, clapping his hands again. The kids all raced over to the wall he was standing beside. Grumbling, Trixie followed, dribbling the ball as she went.

Once they were assembled, Rablo rubbed his hands together, “Alright then. You, pink one, you can sit up here,” He patted the ledge.

“Stephanie.”

“Sure, if you like.”

Stephanie jumped onto the wall and sat down.

“Now you, orange boy, you get up there too.”

Pixel sat on the wall beside Stephanie.

“Good good. Complementing colors. Or something,” Rablo coughed, “You two,” He pointed at Stingy and Ziggy, “sit on the ground under them.”

Finally, Rablo turned to Trixie. She was now scowling at the group, clutching the ball to her chest. He knelt next to her, “Young lady, how would you like to be in the _center_ of the painting?”

Her face softened and she raised an eyebrow at him, “The center?”

“I can put you right in the middle. Everyone will be able to see you,” he cupped his hand around her ear and whispered, “You’ll be the most _important_ part of the masterpiece.”

Her scowl was completely gone now, replaced with a small smile, “I guess we do deserve a break…”

Rablo stood up and adjusted his hat, “Wonderful!”

Trixie was positioned between Stingy and Ziggy on the ground, cross-legged with the basketball in her lap. Rablo Ricasso closed one eye and stuck out his tongue, looking at them all, “Yes, yes, this is good. Give me a moment to fetch my things.”

With that, he turned and left.

“I wonder where he came from,” Stephanie said.

“You heard him,” Ziggy pointed out, “He said he travels around.

“Yeah but everyone comes from _somewhere_ ,” Stephanie argued, “And he seems familiar...”

“Maybe he just looks like someone on TV?” Pixel said.

“Maybe…”

“If he sells our painting, does that mean he has to give us some of the money?” Stingy asked.

Just then, Rablo returned with an easel, a blank canvas, and a small wooden stool. He set up everything a few feet away and took a bulky paint brush out of his pocket.

“What’s _that_?” Trixie pointed at the brush.

“Ah, _this_ helps me create my masterpieces!” Rablo proclaimed, holding it up for the kids to see better. “All the paint is in here, so I don’t have to stop to get different paint whenever I need a new color.”

Pixel looked excited at the idea of a new gadget, “What’s it called?!”

“It’s called the Color…” He suddenly shut his mouth and cleared his throat before trying again, “It’s the… Colortron 8000!” Rablo sat down on the stool. “No more questions! Now, just stay still and let me make my art.”

All the kids sat as at still as they could for a few minutes before Stingy asked, “Do you have other masterpieces you can show us?”

“Not… not with me, no.”

“What else have you painted?”

“I’ve painted lots of things. Like important buildings! And rare animals!”

“Have you ever painted heroes?” Ziggy asked.

“They never sit still long enough,” Rablo grumbled. “Just like you all! Stay _still_ , no more talking!”

They all shut their mouths. Rablo went back to painting. Every few minutes he would press a switch on the brush’s handle and the brush head would change to a different color. Pixel had slid his goggles down over his eyes and was watching this process carefully.

For a long time (well, a long time to hyperactive children), they sat in their places and watched Rablo paint. Eventually, everyone started to fidget. Pixel started swinging his legs, narrowly missing Ziggy’s head each time. Trixie was bouncing the ball lightly against the ground in front of her. Ziggy had pulled out some chalk from his pocket and was doodling on the wall beside him. Stingy held out the longest, back straight and staring intently at the easel. However, even he slumped and began drumming his fingers on his knee.

Stephanie raised her hand, “Mr. Ricasso?”

“Did I not tell you to not move? Or not talk?”

Stephanie blinked, confused, “You— what?”

Rablo rolled his eyes, “I told you not to move or talk, correct?”

“Oh. Yeah, but can I play for a bit?”

“What part of these directions are confusing.”

“I mean, you have a lot of us to paint, right?” Stephanie said, gesturing at the rest of the kids, “So can I play until it’s my turn to be painted?”

Rablo clutched his chest like Stephanie had just offended him, “That makes no _sense_ , child! That’s like saying… saying…” He waved his hands, dripping blue paint on the ground, before pointing at the basketball Trixie was still playing with, “What if you were playing some sport and your teammates wanted to go do something else just because _you_ had the ball?”

“B-but if we’re a team then we need to stick together!” Stephanie looked scandalized.

“Ah, but _you_ have the ball. So why don’t they just wait until it’s their turn?”

“Because then we— we wouldn’t be playing right!”

“Exactly!” Rablo shouted, “So pipe down and _stay put_.”

“For how long?” Ziggy asked.

“FOR—” Rablo stopped and narrowed his eyes at Ziggy. “What are you doing?”

Ziggy waved his chalk, “Just coloring.”

“You’re changing the scenery! I just got done painting that wall and now it’s _different_!”

The chalk clattered to the ground and broke in two. Ziggy clasped his hands together, looking guilty, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to mess anything up!”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Rablo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I apologize for yelling. I am very sensitive about my art,” He took the canvas off the easel. “However, I will have to start over.”

Everyone groaned.

“Oh _stop_ that. This is all your faults. Why can’t you just stay still?”

“You said you _liked_ that we were sporty,” Pixel said.

“Yes but there is a time for _sports_ and a time for peace and quiet. Which is now,” Rablo turned away. “Anyway, I’m going to get a fresh canvas. _None_ of you are allowed to move.”

And he was gone, ignoring the cries of protest they shouted at his back.

Ziggy pouted, crossing his arms, “I’m hungry.”

“How did he get those ‘exotic animals’ to stay still for so long?” Trixie asked no one in particular.

“Maybe he took their picture and painted them later,” Pixel suggested.

“Or maybe—” Stingy began, but was interrupted by something blue flipping over them all. It landed in front of them and smiled.

“Sportacus!” The children chorused.

“Hey, everyone!” Sportacus said. “Why are you all sitting? Taking a break?”

“Rablo Ricasso is painting us,” Stephanie explained, “But we messed up his painting and he has to start over.”

Sportacus looked over at the easel and wooden stool, “I see. But isn’t it almost lunch time?”

Pixel tapped his wrist, “It _is_ time for lunch!”

“But we can’t just ditch Rablo,” Trixie said even as she got to her feet.

“I have an idea,” Sportacus said, “You all go inside and have a healthy lunch. I’ll stay here and wait for Rob— for Rablo so I can tell him where you went.”

Ziggy sprang to his feet, “Lunch time!”

Stephanie jumped down from the wall, “Tell Rablo we’ll back as soon as we can,” She said.

“I will!”

“Don’t let him leave once he gets back,” Stingy instructed, getting up, “I still want to finish _my_ masterpiece.”

“I’ll keep him busy until you’re all finish eating,” Sportacus promised, chucking. ~~~~

* * *

Robbie cackled to himself as he slid into his bunker. He tossed the “ruined” canvas next to his chair and moseyed over to the kitchen for something sweet. The kids weren’t great at posing for a picture but the plan had been to stop them playing, so things were going well so far. Apart from him having to make a sports analogy, which just made Robbie want to wash his mouth out with soap.  

“I just have to keep them there long enough that they waste a whole day being lazy,” He said to himself proudly. “They won’t argue with a great artist like Rablo Ricasso!”

He stopped, cookie halfway to his mouth, “Well, they won’t argue _much more_ than they have been.”

Munching happily, he made his way over to a closet and pulled out a new blank canvas to work on. Honestly, the first painting was perfectly fine. In fact, it was nearly finished. Ziggy had just given him a great excuse to drag this on even longer.

Robbie doubled checked himself in the mirror to make sure his disguise was still in place before making his way back up the pipe, canvas tucked under his arm. Once he reached town, he passed through the gate and into the park, expecting to have to snap at the brats to get back into place.

Instead, he froze.

Doing a handstand on the top of the wall, where he was _pretty sure_ he had told Pinkie and Pocket to sit, was Sportacus.

Robbie was just deciding whether to play dumb or not when Sportacus propelled himself off the wall and leaned back against it, crossing his arms. “Hello, _Rablo_.”

Oh so it was going to be one of those days where Sportflop didn’t even _pretend_ to play along.

“Where are you hiding those kids?” Robbie asked, stomping over to the easel and placing the new canvas on it.

“I figured you wouldn’t want your “subjects” to starve so I sent them to get lunch.”

“You’re such a goodie two shoes.”

Sportacus hopped up to sit properly on the wall, “I’m glad you found a use for the Colornator 8000. Not sure if I approve, but at least you got to test it out.”

“For one thing, no one asked for your approval,” Robbie said. “For another, that’s not what it’s called.”

“Oh? What name did you pick?”

“…Colortron 8000.”

Sportacus snorted and Robbie felt like hitting something.

“It’s your fault! You kept calling it ‘Colornator’ and I couldn’t get it out of my head!”

“Sorry.”

There was a proud grin spread across Sportacus’ face. He didn’t look remotely sorry.

“Anyway,” Sportacus said, “how have you been?”

Robbie raised an eyebrow, “How have I been?”

“I haven’t seen you in a week.”

“So?”

“So how are you?”

It occurred to Robbie that Sportacus was attempting to make civil conversation. In the middle of Robbie tricking the kids. Which was a first.

“I’m… fine?” He cocked his head, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Shouldn’t you be trying to stop me making the kids lazy?”

“I sort of did already, sending them away. They do plan on coming back though.  They seemed excited,” Sportacus shrugged. “They might like it if you actually _did_ paint them.”

Just like back in his bunker, Robbie was surprised Sportacus wasn’t moving around more. The elf hadn’t done much fidgeting since he greeted Robbie. Curious, Robbie pulled a pencil out of his pocket and began sketching Sportacus on the canvas as he spoke.

“I was going to. Paint them, I mean. They just wouldn’t sit still.”

“What did you expect? They’re kids. They like moving around,” Sportacus stooped to pick up a chalk piece Ziggy had left behind. He began tossing it from hand to hand. “Weren’t _you_ more active? When you were little?”

Robbie scoffed, “I was never _your_ standard of ‘active’. But I guess I did… play more.”

“Any sports?”

“Now you’re just being offensive.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Board games. Cards with my cousin. Dancing,” Robbie tried to sound nonchalant, but he saw Sportacus’ eyes go wide. He wondered if he should have that be the expression in the sketch.

“Really? Dancing? What kind?”

“All kinds. My mother loves dancing and when I was a kid she taught me everything she knew.”

Sportacus smiled warmly, “That’s sweet.”

Maybe _that_ should be the expression. “The only other thing I remember _playing_ is dodgeball. Which, it goes without saying, I was awful at,” Robbie erased some lines. “What about you? What was Smallacus like?”

Ignoring the nickname, Sportacus tapped his chin, humming thoughtfully. “Well as far back as I can remember, I’ve always been this active.”

“Shocking,” Robbie said flatly, “But what did you _do_? I highly doubt you could do all those pushups and handstands from birth,” He snorted. “Though I’d believe it if you said you did.”

Sportacus shook his head, “No, I definitely didn’t. My father and brother taught me how to do aerobics. I was terrible at it when I was younger. They had me practice for hours every day so I could keep up with them.”

“I would think that would make you hate it now.”

“No, I wanted to practice that much. I wanted to be as good as them. They were _super_ heroes,” His smiled turned bitter, something Robbie had never seen before, “That’s why I’m only a slight-above-average hero. It’ll take a lot to get to their level.”

Robbie wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. He couldn’t comprehend someone being more energetic or flippy than Sportacus. It would probably cross some sort of line for a villain to tell a hero they were doing their job well.

“It took two of them to teach you?”

Sportacus looked up from the chalk piece, “Yes.”

Robbie shrugged, trying to keep his eyes on the sketch, “You’ve been teaching five brats on your own well enough. The pink one asked if she could _move around_ until it was time to paint her. You’re a terrible influence on them.”

The scratch of pencil on canvas filled the silence following that statement. Robbie drew a line to mark the top of the wall and had roughly scribbled in Ziggy’s doodles before he knew what he was doing.

“They’re not _brats_ ,” Sportacus finally said.

“You haven’t known them as long as I have. They can absolutely be brats.”

“It’s still not nice.”

“And you know how often we villains strive to be nice,” Robbie allowed himself to glace up at Sportacus. The elf was smiling again, back to tossing the chalk back and forth.

“Oh yeah! Speaking of you being nice—”

“Please never do.”

“Hush. Stephanie wanted to thank you for the cupcakes.”

Ah, right. That. “She wasn’t upset that her _health hero_ was bringing her junk food?” He said, very much not wanting to explain himself.

“Sweets are fine every once in a while. And it’s not like she ate all four of them.”

Robbie, who had eaten half of the remaining amount that same afternoon, felt slightly called out.

“Anyway,” Sportacus went on, “she’d probably like to thank you in person. Apparently they were really good.”

“What, is my baking not worth a sugar meltdown to you?”

“I’m sure it is,” Did Sportacus just wink at him? “But it would have been rude to collapse in someone else’s home.”

“Oh so when it’s _my_ home it’s _fine_ but when it’s a _child’s_ home suddenly it’s ‘rude’?”

“I said I was sorry! _Twice_!”

Robbie couldn’t hold in a laugh. This was easy. Why was it easy? When had it become so easy to just talk with Sportaflip?

It was… nice.

So of course something had to ruin it.

Robbie was half way through saying “So about those sewing lessons” when the crystal in Sportacus’ vest went off. Robbie glared at it.

Sportacus jumped off the wall, “Someone’s—”

He didn’t get to finish either. He was interrupted by a loud wail in the distance, followed by a panicked scream.

Sportacus didn’t flip or cartwheel or even do his signature move. He bolted, running flat out through the park and over the gate, in the direction of the scream.

Robbie didn’t hesitate. In no life time would he be as fast as a Sports Elf but pure adrenaline did allow him to hop the gate as well, mere seconds behind Sportacus.

Robbie’s red beret flew off as he ran. He did not stop to pick it up.

* * *

 

Ziggy was hunched over on the ground when Sportacus skid to a halt at the scene. Trixie was beside him, her hands hovering unsure over his shaking back. A basketball was rolling innocently away from them. Trixie’s head snapped up when she heard Sportacus approach. Tears were already spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault! I was throwing the ball like Stephanie showed me and I didn’t see Ziggy and I— I didn’t mean to! I didn’t! I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, Trixie,” Sportacus said softly as he knelt beside the pair. Ziggy was covering his face with both hands, whimpering. “Just take a few steps back, okay? Give him some room.” She sniffed but nodded, standing and moving away.  Sportacus lowered his head level with the trembling Ziggy, “Ziggy, look at me, let me see you.” Ziggy shook his head and let out a muffled whine, “Just lower your hands and—”

Sportacus saw the ground beneath Ziggy’s head just as Ziggy finally looked up and uncovered his mouth. There was red on the ground. Not a gory amount, but a bright, unnatural red puddle against healthy green grass. The same red was dribbling from the corner of Ziggy’s mouth like drool.

At the sight of all the blood, Sportacus’ brain did an unhelpful thing.

It Stopped.

It stopped hearing Trixie’s rambled apologies and Ziggy’s sobs; it stopped feeling Ziggy shaking under his hands; it stopped calling up all the first aid procedures Sportacus knew.

It Stopped and made him stare at the blood, a rushing sound filling his ears.

There was a swirl of guilt in his stomach, urging him to move, begging him to Help, but it was taking every ounce of strength he had not to just scramble away.

Suddenly, something was touching his shoulder. A hand. Not a child’s hand.

“Sportacus?!”

Robbie. Adult. Someone who could be in charge here. It couldn’t be Sportacus at the moment. Maybe it could be Robbie.

“Robbie Rotten?!” he heard Trixie say, with more incredulity than accusation.

There were other voices and footsteps approaching, Sportacus could hear now. The other kids. Something else to look at. He wrenched his eyes away from Ziggy’s face.

Stephanie, Stingy, and Pixel stood next to Trixie. Stephanie wrapped her arm around Trixie’s shoulders. Stingy was clutching the basketball. “What happened?” He asked.

“I-it was just an accident,” Sportacus said. He coughed and spoke again with more confidence, “Everything is okay.”

“ _Robbie_ was Rablo Rickalsso?” Pixel said.

Stephanie gasped, “That’s why he looked familiar!”

“It was Rablo _Ricasso_ ,” Robbie corrected. Sportacus felt him kneel next to him, their arms touching. “I put a lot of thought into my names. I’ll thank you to say them right. Tilt your head up a bit, Ziggy.”

The touch and the authoritative tone of Robbie’s voice gave Sportacus the courage to look at Ziggy again. He was no longer crying as he tipped his head back and opened his mouth. Robbie, his fake facial hair gone, had a hand under the boy’s chin and was peering inside. With his other hand he used his sleeve to wipe away the blood from Ziggy’s chin, muttering comforting words softly. It was a surprisingly tender gesture. Sportacus kept his eyes on Robbie, trying to mentally force the scent of blood from his nose.

Sportacus realized with a jolt that Robbie had used the correct name.

“You bit your tongue, but it doesn’t look bad. That’s where most of the blood is coming from. Spit, it’ll help.” Robbie lowered his hand and Ziggy turned his head to do just that. Sportacus looked away just in time.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Robbie went on after a moment, “But I think you’re missing a tooth.”

Ziggy’s eyes went wide and he stuck a finger in his mouth, feeling around. He let out a garbled “My loose tooth!” and starting searching on the ground. The other kids raced over.

“What’s going on?”

“My tooth! Trixie knocked out my loose tooth!”

“I did?”

“Help me find it!”

“Here it is!” Pixel exclaimed. He pulled what looked like a small white pebble out of the grass on Robbie’s other side.

“I’m really _really_ sorry, Ziggy,” Trixie said as Pixel passed Ziggy the tooth.

“It’s okay. It was almost ready to come out anyway,” He tried smiling up at her but flinched and put a hand to his cheek, “My face hurts though…”

“You’ll probably have a bruise tomorrow,” Sportacus said, standing up on wobbly legs, “Nothing lasting. We should get you some ice, it’ll help the pain.”

Ziggy nodded miserably, still rubbing his jaw. Robbie sighed. “Alright, time to go home.” And in one smooth motion, he picked up Ziggy and stood, holding the boy on his hip. With his free hand, Robbie subtly took Sportacus’ right hand. Sportacus squeezed it without thinking, glad for the support.

They began walking towards Ziggy’s house. Stephanie had somehow wrestled the basketball from Stingy and was talking to Trixie, whispering to her and smiling when she finally let out a teary giggle. Ziggy had one arm wrapped around Robbie, leaning his head on the man’s shoulder.

“You _have_ to let me see what the tooth fairy gives you tonight,” Stingy was saying.

“But don’t let him hold it. Trust me,” Pixel warned.

Ziggy managed a giggle, “Maybe mom will let me have ice cream!”

“If she doesn’t, I will give her a stern talking to,” Robbie said. Ziggy beamed at him before cutting his eyes to Sportacus.

Guilt sat too heavy in Sportacus’ stomach for him to lecture right now, “I suppose it would be better for you to eat than taffy.” Ziggy grinned, showing off the gap in his teeth briefly before closing his mouth and rubbing his cheek again. 

They reached Ziggy’s house. His mother fussed over the drying drops of blood on Ziggy’s shirt (which Sportacus had been pointedly ignoring for the past few minutes) and agreed with her son and Robbie that ice cream was a good idea. Even though they had just eaten lunch, the rest of the kids were very excited to follow Ziggy inside and join him. Robbie had briefly let go of Sportacus to set Ziggy down, but took his hand again right away. If Ziggy’s mother thought this was odd, she didn’t say anything. She thanked both of them for their help. She even asked if they wanted to join them for ice cream, though she looked more at Robbie when she said this. They both turned her down, Robbie with more politeness than Sportacus would have expected.

Finally, she closed the door and Sportacus and Robbie were alone. Now that the children were gone, Sportacus let his shoulders slump and reached up a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. It would take a bit for the lasting smell of blood to leave him fully.

Without warning, Robbie began walking, pulling Sportacus with him. They circled around to the sport’s field. Robbie stopped at a bench and sat down. Sportacus sat beside him and let go of his hand. He heaved a great sigh and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair.

He really wanted the image of Ziggy with blood running down his chin to go away. He wanted the memory of the blood puddle gone. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to gag on the guilt coiled tightly in his gut.

There was a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it soothingly. “Breathe,” Robbie commanded. Sportacus sucked in a breath, tasting fresh, cleansing air. He let it out slowly before breathing in again through his nose. He smelled summer grass, the new paint on the bench, and another now familiar scent he knew was purely _Robbie_.

After a few more breaths, Sportacus lowered his hands and looked over at Robbie, “Thanks, and— I’m sorry. And thank you for—” He waved in the general direction of Ziggy’s house, “That. Thank you.”

Robbie hummed and lifted his hand from Sportacus’ neck, “His tooth was really loose then? That was a baby tooth?”

“Yeah. It’s been loose for about a week. Trixie kept offering to help him pull it. I don’t think she meant like this though.” He leaned back against the bench, vaguely aware that Robbie had laid his arm across the back of the bench.

“Good. I wasn’t sure how to tell a seven year old they lost a permanent tooth.”

That would have been way worse. Sportacus wasn’t sure if he would have been able to calm down Ziggy on his own in that case, even if there hadn’t been—

He took another deep breath. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it…_

“Sorry I was so… useless. That wasn’t very heroic, was it? Freezing up like that.”

He felt Robbie shrug, “You said it yourself. Everyone’s afraid of something.” Robbie snorted, “Can’t believe I thought you were afraid of _dinosaurs_.” 

Sportacus let himself chuckle at the memory of Robbie in a purple dinosaur costume. “Really though, thank you for handling that. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.” He looked up at Robbie just in time to see the other man’s face turn a faint pink. He’d give that detail a good pondering later but now was not the time.

“I’m sure the pink girl would have done something. Like a good little second-in-command.”

“I think you mean ‘friend’.” Sportacus rolled his eyes, “And you can stop pretending. I know you know their names.”

Robbie scoffed, “I do _not_.”

“You called Ziggy by the right name before.”

“Which one is he? The kid with the glasses?”

“ _Robbie_.”

“Oh of _course_ I know their names, Sportaflop! You sort of learn people’s names when you live near them. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but nicknames are kind of my thing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Sportacus said with an amused huff, spinning his hat on his finger.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Sportacus was secretly glad Robbie was getting the fresh air after a week inside. The day was sunny with a gentle, cooling breeze. A sharp contrast to the last time they had spoken. After a couple of minutes, Sportacus felt Robbie shift.

“Well, I think I would call this day a win for me,” Robbie declared. He removed his arm from behind Sportacus and stretched, “I’m going home for some celebratory cake.”

Sportacus raised an eyebrow, “How did you ‘win’?”

“The kids are inside eating ice cream.”

“So?”

“What, are you _new_ here? They’re not active and they’re not eating healthy. Those are my goals.”

“I thought your goal was to run me out of town?”

Robbie stood, not looking at Sportacus. “That’s a lower priority than it used to be,” he answered with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I’d much rather make sure the brats stay inside and stay quiet. And get something _fun_ to eat everyone once in a while.”

Sportacus wanted to point out that sports candy _was_ fun but Robbie had just admitted he didn’t want Sportacus to leave town anymore. He found himself smiling. All the negative thoughts from earlier were fading away. The guilt was still there, however it was being slowly suffocated by a warm feeling growing in his chest.

He stood and took Robbie’s hand again. He was becoming addicted to the physical contact, “You really do care about them, don’t you?”

That earned him a glare, “How dare you say such a thing.” But Robbie didn’t let go of his hand. “Anyway, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, I bought everything needed for sewing lessons. If you’re still interested.”

“Of course!” Sportacus had been hoping Robbie hadn’t forgotten, “Where? When? Should I bring anything? What are we—”

“ _Stop_ , stop. These lessons aren’t _free_ , you know.”

Sportacus’ smiled slipped a bit, “Oh, yeah. That’s fair. Do you want me to pay for some of the supplies?”

“That’s not what I mean. I want you to make me breakfast again.”

“Breakfast?”

“Yes. We’ll have the first lesson at my place around noon tomorrow. I’ll be just waking up and it would be nice to have breakfast made for me.” Robbie narrowed his eyes at him, “And I mean _make_ breakfast. Don’t just pile a bunch of fruit on a plate and expect me to eat it.”

Sportacus chuckled, “I wouldn’t have done that.”

“ _Yes_ you would, you don’t fool me for a second. You wouldn’t even have cut them up. I would have woken up to three whole apples and one or four watermelons masquerading as breakfast.”

“I’m sure you could invent something to cut them up for you.”

“Already have one. It’s called a sharp pencil and I’d just poke you with it until _you_ cut them all.”

Robbie’s teasing smile was affecting the warm feeling in Sportacus’ chest. When had it become this easy to banter with Robbie? When had they crossed from enemies, in the loosest meaning of the word, to tentative friends?

Not that Sportacus was complaining.

With a final squeeze of Sportacus’ hand, Robbie let go, “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bright and early.”

“You said noon.”

“Bright an early for _me_.”

Sportacus shook his head as Robbie began walking away. Slipping his hat back over his head, he flipped away toward his airship. He needed to grab a basketball. Apparently Trixie was in need of lessons.

* * *

 

Robbie stopped back at the park on his way home. He gathered up the Colortron 8000 and his hat and was about to pack up the easel when he caught a good look at his sketch from earlier.

Pulling out his pencil, Robbie erased the top of Sportacus’ head and quickly redrew him without the hat. He smirked as he drew in the elf’s pointed ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I took Robbie's name and costume design from that one comic XD


	5. Sewing Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fated first sewing lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the second to last chapter! This is shorter than the last two but I wanted to focus entirely on the lesson. 
> 
> Let me know if there are any errors!
> 
> (also, I looked up a lot of sewing websites and complied my own experience learning to sew but if anything is not accurate, I'm sorry)  
> Edit: Yeah this obvious isn't the real second to last chapter. Sorry if that messed anyone up.

The sun was high in the sky as Sportacus flipped and cartwheeled his way over to Robbie’s billboard. He had been looking forward to this all morning. Finally it was time for sewing lessons.

Well, first it was time to make Robbie breakfast. _Then_ it would be time for sewing lessons.

Sportacus was strangely looking forward to that as well. He rarely got a chance to cook anything. The ship didn’t have a proper kitchen and Sportacus didn’t require much beyond fruits and vegetables to keep him going anyway. He’d had fun last night thinking up all the things he could make for Robbie in return for the lessons.

With a final round off, he was at the door in the billboard. He pushed his way through it. The hatch to Robbie’s home was propped open with a fist sized rock. On closer inspection, Sportacus found a note taped to the hatch:

 

 

 

 

> _S,_
> 
> _Door’s unlocked. Try not to wake me up._
> 
> _-R_

Sportacus grinned before pocketing the note and making his way as quietly as possible down the pipe. When he reached the bottom, he slid out and jumped to his feet, looking around the lair. Not much had changed since his last visit. One of the tubes of the disguise machine contained the outfit for “Rablo Ricasso”. The Colornator 8000 (Sportacus stifled a giggle) Color _tron_ 8000 was sitting on the work table, dried green paint covering the head.

In the middle of the lair, asleep in the big armchair, was Robbie. He was snoring softly, a purple blanket coving his torso.

There was a painting leaning against the work table and Sportacus tipped toed around Robbie to get a better look at it. It was the ‘masterpiece’ of all the children, sitting together around the wall and smiling. Robbie had obviously kept working on it once he got home. There were several details, particularly for the kid’s faces, that couldn’t have been done with the Colortron 8000’s brush size alone. Sportacus hoped Robbie would show it to the kids someday. They would love it, especially Stingy.

From behind him, Sportacus heard a creak and turned around to see Robbie rolling over in the chair. Luckily the other man didn’t wake up but it was a good reminder that Sportacus should get started. He placed the canvas down and made his way to the kitchen.

Half an hour later, he stepped back to admire his creation. Four slices of steaming French toast were stacked on a plate. They would look perfect with a few strawberries on top but he resisted. It was the first lesson; he didn’t want to make Robbie mad. Sportacus hummed to himself as he started washing the pan. His eyes fell on the coffee maker in the corner of the countertop. Was Robbie expecting coffee? Should Sportacus make some? He squinted at the machine, taking in all the buttons and numbers and the _very_ breakable looking glass craft in the middle—

And decided that was an adventure for another day.

Robbie still wasn’t awake by the time Sportacus was done cleaning up. Sportacus crept closer to him, trying to think of the best way to wake him up. As he got closer, he spotted something that made him momentarily forget his mission.

On the floor next to Robbie’s chair was another canvas. Sportacus crouched to get a better look, unable to take his eyes off it. It was a pencil sketch of Sportacus. He couldn’t remember ever posing like this. In the sketch, he was sitting on the low wall with his hat in his hands, hair and pointed ears bare to the world, a warm smile on his face.

There was another creak from the chair beside him and Sportacus dropped the sketch. He stood just as Robbie rolled onto his back and blinked his eyes open.

Sportacus swallowed, “G-Good morn— _afternoon_. Good afternoon.”

Robbie’s jaw cracked in a yawn. Sportacus winced. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“No! I was going to wake you up. Breakfast is ready.”

More awake now, Robbie sat up, sniffing the air. Suddenly, he jumped out of his chair and was in the kitchen in seconds. He picked up the plate of French toast and inhaled the scent. Sportacus hoped they were still warm enough.

In no time at all, Robbie had covered them in butter and syrup and had taken a large bite. He groaned as he chewed. “Delicious!” He declared, flashing a grin at Sportacus. Sportacus felt his heart do a flip in his chest. He would handle any amount of sugar if it meant Robbie would smile at him like that.

There was only one chair at the small kitchen table which Robbie took. Sportacus hopped up onto the kitchen counter.

 “So what’s today’s lesson?” He asked, kicking his legs, “Are we going to make a shirt? Or are we going to start small and just make a sleeve? Or maybe a blanket? I wouldn’t be opposed to starting with blankets.”

Robbie swallowed another mouthful, “I thought we could start with threading a needle.”

Sportacus frowned, “I know how to thread a needle, Robbie.”

“Yeah but do you know how to do it right?”

“There’s a wrong way?”

“Exactly.” Robbie pointed his fork at him, “We’re going to start from the beginning until I can get an idea of your skill level. Then we’ll see about making blankets.”

Sportacus stopped swinging his legs, “I could just _tell_ you my skill level.”

“You’re bias. Did you make coffee?”

“No, sorry. The machine looked…” he grappled for the right word, “… much.”

Robbie huffed out a laugh, “That can be a different lesson then. One step at a time. Let me finish breakfast.”

* * *

When Sportacus first came to Lazy Town, Robbie watched, in disgust, as the kids taught him sport after sport. A lot of the time it seemed Sportacus knew the rules already and was simply letting the kids have fun instructing him. Some sports, like baseball, he appeared to genuinely not know how to play. In those situations, he listened to the children carefully and did what they told him with no complaining.

So Robbie was perplexed as to why sewing was somehow different.

“You said to put the needle through the black dots you made! What could I be doing wrong?”

“Clearly you aren’t listening! For the backstitch you need to go _back_ into the second hole and _then_ go forward again.”

“Do you have any idea how confusing that sounds?!”

Robbie rubbed his temples. He had sat Sportacus on the work bench and given him black thread and white fabric to practice with. It had taken the two of them five entire minutes to thread the needle. Sportacus had been fascinated by the double thread technique Robbie had shown him and had listened intently to Robbie’s explanation on why it was better and easier than single threading.

But now Sportacus was glaring down at his piece of fabric and looked seconds away from tossing in onto the table like a child. Robbie ran a hand down his face, “Let me say it again,” He pointed at the dots he had drawn on to fabric, “Put the needle up into here, down into there, then up at this dot, _then_ go _back_ down this one.”

He stood over Sportacus and watched the elf ponder this information. Sportacus held the needle at the ready, looking determinedly down at the fabric in his other hand, licked his lips—

Then his shoulders sagged, “I just… I go _up_ first? But then how…” He shook his head, “Maybe we should take a break.”

“We are doing no such thing. We only just started.” This was absurd. Why was it so hard for Sportacus to understand Robbie’s directions? Granted, Robbie had never taught anyone anything before but how hard could it be to just listen to step-by-step instructions?

He scratched his chin, thinking. The kids had mimed how to swing a baseball bat for Sportacus. Robbie had a vivid memory of Stephanie showing Sportacus how to set up a hopscotch court before making him try it too. So maybe…

“Scoot over,” Robbie demanded. Sportacus shifted over without question. He still looked defeated and Robbie would try _anything_ to take that expression away. Robbie expertly threaded a second needle and grabbed another bit of white cloth. He straddled the bench so he was facing Sportacus. The elf copied him.

“Mirror me,” Robbie said, holding up his needle. Sportacus nodded, sitting up straight once again.

Slowly, together, they went through the steps to perform the backstitch. They did it over and over, making a line down their fabrics. Robbie stopped at one point to observe Sportacus. His earlier frustration seemed to be gone. As he kept stitching, there was a small, almost content smile on his face. Robbie felt a surge of pride.

Sportacus froze suddenly, narrowing his eyes at the fabric. Robbie looked down to see that he had reached the end of the cloth.

“Now what?” Sportacus asked, looking up at Robbie. Robbie had to suppress a chuckle. He looked genuinely perplexed. Now Robbie understood why his outfits looked so poorly maintained.

He shifted closer to Sportacus, trying to ignore the heat that rushed into his face when he bumped their knees together, “I’ll show you. Look closely. You have to get the needle—”

Sportacus leaned forward so their foreheads where pressing together. Robbie’s throat closed around the rest of his sentence as the image of a very sleepy Sportacus doing the same thing flooded his mind’s eye.

He gulped and tried again, “Y-you have to get the needle through one string like this…” No good. His voice wouldn’t stay steady, “Just watch.” He closed his mouth and simply showed Sportacus the steps. Sportacus copied him with ease.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Sportacus said quietly. Robbie could hear the grin in his voice. He gulped again and leaned back, grabbing the scissors from the table.

“Let’s set you up again and you can try it on your own this time,” Robbie said as he cut the string in Sportacus’ needle.

“Okay. I’m ready,” Sportacus said with a nod. There was a bit of color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before. Robbie shook his head. It probably didn’t mean anything.

It only took a minute or two for Sportacus to rethread his needle this time. Robbie gave him two squares of fabric; one orange and one purple.

“Use the backstitch along the edges of these to attach them.” He raised an eyebrow, “Do you want me to draw dots again?”

Sportacus snorted, “No thanks. I think I can handle it.”

There was no great reason for Robbie to be sitting across from Sportacus anymore but he didn’t feel like moving. He crossed his arms and watched Sportacus begin stitching. He seemed to have the motions down pretty well. So Sportacus was a visual learner then. Robbie could work with that.

“Do they not teach you elves basic things like sewing before they set you loose?” Robbie asked.

Sportacus kept his eyes on his work as he answered, “My father tried to teach me but I was never interested. Didn’t see the point in sewing when I was younger. All I wanted to learn back then were hero things.”

“Like how to fight using a tennis racket?”

“That was improvised.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Blue eyes flickered up to meet Robbie’s before looking back down again, “Who taught _you_ how to sew? Or did you teach yourself?”

“My cousin taught me. He makes all his own clothes.”

“Really? _All_ of them?”

“He has a very… _interesting_ sense of style. He’s not usually satisfied with store bought stuff.”

“Does he also invent things?”

“He used to but now he just asks me to make things for him. I’ll get a letter once a month or so with a new request,” He reached out and tapped the cloth in Sportacus’ hand, “Try to stay close to the edge.”

“Right, sorry,” Sportacus adjusted accordingly. The stitch wasn’t straight any more but at least it wasn’t headed for the middle of the fabric. “You know, Stingy’s been thinking about making his own clothes too.”

The image of the yellow kid in Sportacus’ place made Robbie wrinkle his nose, “Why?”

“Said he wants his clothes to be _his_ , down to the design. He pointed out that when his parents buy him clothes, then the clothes belong to them, not _him_.”

“Please don’t tell me you want to start including him in our lessons.”

Sportacus’ head shot up, “No!”

The answer came quicker and louder than Robbie had been expecting. It was also not the _answer_ he’d been expecting. Robbie watched Sportacus’ cheeks turn red again as he lowered his eyes back to his work.

“He… You know how kids can have passing interests,” Sportacus said, a little too fast, “He was probably all talk. Besides we’d need to start from the very beginning with him. He doesn’t know the first thing about sewing.”

“To be clear, I was going to say ‘no’ no matter what you said,” Robbie clarified. He wasn’t going to think about how cute Sportacus looked when he blushed. He was Not.

Because that was definitely a blush and Robbie _definitely_ didn’t want to puzzle that out right now.

Robbie shifted so he was sitting properly on the bench now, with both legs on the same side, “Also I’ve seen your handiwork. _You_ also don’t know the first thing about sewing.”

“All I wanted was to reattach the sleeve and I did! So I think I know a _few_ things.”

“You told me it started as a small hole.”

“ _Yes_ , and now the hole is _gone_.” Sportacus said this like he was trying to explain a very complicated concept to a two year old. Robbie had to laugh.

It was then Robbie’s eyes fell on the fabric again. He grabbed Sportacus’ wrist, stopping the needle before he could make a new stitch, “Knot the sting like I showed you before.”

Sportacus frowned, “But you said to attached them? I have one side left to go.”

“Yup. Knot it off.”

He let go of Sportacus’ hand and the elf did as he was told. When he was done he clipped the thread himself and held up his work. His eyes boggled, “Oh!” He turned the creation inside out, “It’s a pocket!” He grinned at Robbie, pride etched in his face, “How does it look?”

Robbie took the small pouch and stuck his hand inside. It was barely big enough for that. His pointer finger poked out the bottom.

Sportacus winced, “Okay so maybe I need more practice.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Robbie reached over and picked up two more fabric squares, “Try again. Make sure you keep the stitches close together this time. And stick as close to the edge as you can.”

By the end of the lesson, Sportacus had created three pockets of various qualities. There would have been four but Robbie could tell Sportacus was getting sick of the repetition so he called an end to their first lesson. Sportacus shot up from his seat and started doing stretches. Robbie was surprised he hadn’t done so earlier. 

“I’ll show you the whip stitch tomorrow and maybe by the end of the week you’ll be able to make a hat.”

Sportacus flipped into a handstand before answering, “But my hat rarely gets damaged at all. I don’t need a replacement.”

“Regardless, it’s good practice.” Robbie lifted his chin, “And don’t argue with your teacher.”

With a chuckle, Sportacus lowered his legs back to earth and stood up, “Same time tomorrow then?”

“If you’re up for it.”

Sportacus stuck his tongue out at Robbie before cartwheeling towards the pipe and exiting the lair.

Robbie shook his head once the elf was gone. What had all the blushing been about? And was forehead touching an Elf Thing or a Sportacus Thing? Robbie rubbed a hand down his face. Now that he had a better idea of how to teach Sportacus, the lessons should get easier. All Robbie needed to do was get these stupid _emotions_ under control.

Cleaning up would definitely help clear his mind. Robbie busied himself with sweeping up all the bits of string that had fallen under the bench, putting the fabric pieces back into their box, and sticking all the needles safely into their cushion.

Glancing around the bunker, he saw the syrupy plate he had left next to his chair. He went over to pick it up and noticed something that made him drop the plate right back down again.

The canvas. The second one from yesterday. Robbie had completely forgotten he had left it next to his chair. It was lying face down. Right where Sportacus had been standing when Robbie had woken up.

 _Oh no what if he had seen_ —

Robbie snatched up the canvas. The sketch wasn’t anything incriminating but the idea of Sportacus _seeing_ it filled him with an irrational fear. Robbie glanced down at the sketch. Maybe someday soon he could see Sportacus without his hat again. There were a few details Robbie hadn’t been able to fill in just by memory alone and the ears were— _not important stop **thinking** things like that_.

For the first time in a long time, Robbie ignored his own advice. He crossed back to his work table and picked up a pencil. Sitting on the bench once more, he began sketching in more of the background and idling coming up with ways to surreptitiously knock Sportacus’ hat off.

* * *

 

That night, Sportacus sat on his bed, writing a letter home. He liked to update his family once a month on how things were in Lazy Town. And this month was a _big_ update. As an afterthought, he stuck two of the pouches he had made in the envelope with the letter. His father would get a kick out of the big hole at the bottom of his. Sportacus fully expected an ‘I told you so’ letter from him by the end of the week. Or at least a ‘Wow you suck at this, tell Rotten good luck from me’ letter from his brother.

Sportacus carefully left out any hints of deeper, more complex emotions that had cropped up during the month. The last thing he wanted was a ‘When can we meet him’ letter from his entire family.

“Door!” He called once the letter was ready.

The door opened and Sportacus stepped out. He let his usual guiding magic slip from his fingers into the letter. There was a flash of blue, then the letter was off, flying north. Flying home.

Sportacus sat on the door and watched the letter until it was out of sight. Even after it was gone, he remained, wondering what to make for breakfast tomorrow.

 

 


	6. Gifts And Lists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lessons continue. Robbie gets some gifts. Sportacus gets a letter from his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was gonna be the last chapter. In fact, last chapter, this chapter, AND next chapter were supposed to be all one chapter. But it grew too long. Way too long. So /next/ chapter is the last one.
> 
> As always, please tell me if you spot a mistake! Enjoy!

The next afternoon, Sportacus made Robbie pancakes again. Robbie grumbled about the ‘repeat performance’ but one bite of the pancakes stopped those remarks. Sportacus grinned. He had suspected that making them from scratch would be different than using a mix. If Robbie’s expression was anything to go by, there was a _very_ big difference. The man had practically melted across the arms of his orange chair, balancing the plate in his lap.

“All those times I’ve had to stop you messing with the kids,” Sportacus said, leaning over Robbie from behind the chair, “and I could have just given you a plate of food. Apparently that’s all it takes.”

“If you had done that, we would have been friends much sooner.”

A pair of toasty warm butterflies flapped again Sportacus’ ribcage at those words. Robbie stuffed another heaping forkful into his mouth and didn’t notice Sportacus turn the brightest red. The hero cleared his throat, tying to keep his tone light and teasing, “So you only like me for my cooking?”

Robbie swallowed, “Well _you_ only like me because I can sew.” He was smirking playfully, but he was still looking as his plate of pancakes, so Sportacus wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

“That’s not true.”

“Oh? Tell me what else there is to like about me,” Robbie shifted the plate to one hand and laid his other dramatically over his forehead, “Go on. _Shower_ me with _complements_.”

Sportacus rubbed his chin, forcing himself not to say anything that Robbie could read too far into. “Well, you’re a good baker, according to Stephanie and Ziggy.”

“And to anyone with decent taste buds.”

“You’re great at calming down hysterical children.”

“If only I could keep them _all_ calm _all_ the time…”

“You can dance. Allegedly.”

“There’s nothing ‘alleged’ about it!” Robbie sat up, glaring at Sportacus, “I am a _wonderful_ dancer!”

“Then dance with me.”

The words were out of Sportacus mouth before he realized how they sounded. He felt his face grow impossibly redder as Robbie continued to stare at him. It would probably be very unheroic to hide behind the armchair but Sportacus was dangerously close to giving in to the impulse.

Luckily, Robbie seemed to want to avoid the awkwardness as much as Sportacus because he shoved a whole pancake into his mouth and swiveled so he was sitting properly in the chair, his back to Sportacus.

“Maybe some other time,” Robbie grumbled around the pancake. Sportacus took to opportunity to change the subject.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s rude.”

Robbie responded by chewing with his mouth as open as he could without losing food.

“ _Robbie_!” Sportacus turned away with a groan of disgust but couldn’t hold in a laugh.

* * *

On the fourth day of lessons, Sportacus made scrambled eggs. He presented the plate to Robbie and watched in _horror_ as the man squirted ketchup on top.

“ _What_ are you _doing_?” He almost shouted.

Robbie froze with the fork halfway to his mouth and looked at Sportacus, “What?”

“You put ketchup on them!”

“So? I thought you would be happy. Aren’t tomatoes technically a sports candy?”

“But—but I seasoned those eggs _perfectly_! You didn’t even try them first. You shouldn’t _need_ ketchup!”

“ _All_ eggs need ketchup.”

Sportacus threw up his hands and stalked back to the kitchen. “I’m going to do the dishes.”

Robbie called after him, “Hey, if you going to learn how to sew in _my_ house, you’re going to go by _my_ rules, Sportasnob! And in my house _you put ketchup on your eggs_!”

“Tomatoes are _the worst_ sports candy!” Sportacus finally yelled. Robbie stared at him for a beat before he burst out laughing, “I mean it!” Sportacus went on, “They’re just these… these _globs_ of chunky water and seeds! There are people who can eat a tomato _all by itself_! I don’t know _how_ they—And _ketchup_?! All it does is make food soggy and inedible! I don’t know why so many people insist on covering everything with it! How can _anything_ taste good when it’s covered in _goop_?!”

Robbie was still laughing, clutching his stomach. The plate of eggs sat forgotten on the counter. Sportacus felt a smile crawl onto his face as Robbie’s laughs echoed around the bunker, his irritation fading somewhat.

“ _Wow_ ,” Robbie choked out after a few moments, grinning and wiping the corner of one eye, “Got that out of your system? Feel better now?”

The elf tossed the spatula he had been using into the sink, “A little.”

“Good,” Robbie snorted, clearly holding in more laughter, “So you’re not a fan of tomatoes. I’ll remember that.”

“I’m allowed to have a least favorite sports candy.”

“Oh no you are not. You’re _Sportacus_ , defender of all things disgustingly healthy. You have to like _everything_.”

Sportacus knew the other man was kidding but he was still filled with an unreasonable amount of dread when Robbie then said, “Wait ‘till I tell the kids.”

“Robbie no.

“Robbie _yes_.”

* * *

 During the seventh lesson, there was a knock on the hatch. Robbie and Sportacus looked at each other before simultaneously looking up at the ceiling. Whoever was up there knocked again.

Robbie leveled a glare at Sportacus, “Just because you spend every afternoon here does _not_ mean you can invite people over.”

“I didn’t,” Sportacus said, still looking up.

“Well _I_ certainly didn’t.”

Robbie stood and flicked on the sound system as he crossed the lair to his periscope. He looked into it just as a voice came through the speakers, “Robbie? Are you home?”

Sportacus stood as well, “Is that Stephanie?”

Indeed it was. The girl was clad in pink, as usual, and was knocking on the hatch to Robbie’s lair, _not_ as usual. She was holding a rolled up bit of paper in her hand and had a familiar plastic container under her arm. 

“Rooooobbieeeee! Are you asleep?!”

“Why aren’t you answering her?” Sportacus asked.

 “I’m trying to figure out what she wants.”

“You could ask.”

“That would be too easy.”

Robbie could _hear_ Sportacus shaking his head.

“Oh _fine_.” He pushed away from the periscope and stalked over to the pipe. Truthfully, he was a little threated by Stephanie’s appearance. Robbie had come to think of the afternoons as a time for just him and Sportacus. He didn’t like the idea of Stephanie interrupting them.

It was probably irrational to be this annoyed about it but Robbie had been having irrational thoughts lately. Sportacus had that effect on him.

With a great push, Robbie opened the hatch and poked his head out. Stephanie was standing on the ladder, hand raised as if to knock again.

“What do you want?” He snapped.

“Hi, Robbie!” Stephanie said cheerfully, not reading his tone at all, “I have some gifts for you!” She stepped backwards off the ladder.

Surprised, Robbie jumped out of the hatch and clambered down the ladder to stand in front of her, “Gift _s_? As in more than one?”

“Yup!” She held out the rolled up paper, “This one’s from Ziggy. He wanted to give it to you himself but you haven’t been in town much.”

Robbie took the paper. He couldn’t even begin to guess what he had done for the boy to want to give him something. Robbie unfurled the paper gently, careful not to rip his present.

It was a drawing of several figures. There was someone drawn in purple crayon holding someone who was clearly supposed to be Ziggy. Ahead of them was a pink blob with lines for arms and legs. There were also yellow, orange, and red blobs in a similar style. A tall figure in blue was following the purple one, their stick arms joined.

Across the bottom in purple marker was a big ‘THANK YOU ROBBIE!!’ and in the corner ‘Love, Ziggy!’.

Robbie gapped at the drawing, trying to come up with something to say. When he finally found it in him to look away, it was to find Stephanie smiling up at him.

“He wouldn’t stop talking about how you helped him that day,” she said, “He drew a lot of pictures while we were eating ice cream but he liked this one best. So he wanted _you_ to have it!” She got on her tip-toes to point, “See, that’s me, and Trixie, and Pixel, and Stingy, and you and Sportacus!”

Robbie’s mouth was going dry from being open for so long. He swallowed and opened his mouth again to speak. Nothing came out. He kept staring at the paper.

Ziggy had been _that_ grateful? Robbie didn’t think he had done much. Sure he’d cleaned the boy up a bit and assessed the damage but really, Ziggy’s mother did most of the work. Robbie had considered sending her a sympathy card because he knew how hard it was to get blood stains out of fabric.

Honestly, he thought the kids would put that day in the “Weird Things Robbie Does Sometimes” folder. Right next to catching Sportacus. The fact that Ziggy had _drawn_ that day…

No he would not cry in front of a child, he would _not_ —

_Damnit._

Robbie brought the paper up to his face with one hand and started wiping at his eyes with the other.

“W-well!” He stammered, “I- he- Which kid is Zoggy again?!”

“ _Rob_ bie…” He heard Stephanie tsk.

“Whatever. Tell the kid he needs to work on drawing people! I’m not just a purple stick with hair,” he lowered the paper and gave his best dismissive snort, “But Sportablob’s blob looks accurate enough.”

Stephanie giggled and Robbie couldn’t hold back a small smile.

“Oh! Here’s gift number two!” Stephanie held out the container. Robbie recognized it as the container he had put his cupcakes in. It wasn’t empty, like Robbie had thought when he looked through his periscope earlier.

Robbie rolled up the paper and stuck it under his arm, already mentally planning where he wanted to hang it in the lair. He took the container and opened it. Inside were about a dozen snickerdoodle cookies.

“How did you change my cupcakes into cookies?” He asked, picking one up and sniffing it.

Stephanie giggled again, “My uncle told me to never return an empty container. So we made cookies to give to you! Your cupcakes were really _really_ good! Where did you buy that frosting?”

He scoffed, “ _Buy_?” He shut the container and lifted his chin, “I never _buy_ frosting. Disgusting. It’s simple enough to make and tastes 100 times better than anything you can _buy_. I don’t know how people can stand the _goop_ they label ‘frosting’ in stores.”

Stephanie’s eyes were wide. What were they teaching in school these days?!

“I didn’t know you could _make_ frosting!”

Oh yes, the school was going to get a _strongly_ worded letter from Robbie.

He stuffed the snickerdoodle in his mouth, “You’re lucky your cookies are decent,” he said, perfectly aware of the crumbs he spewed in the process.

She clapped her hands, “So you like them?”

“…yes.”

Stephanie did a jump and twirl in place, “Yes!” Without warning, she hugged Robbie around the middle.

Robbie, of course, knew how hugs usually worked. But he had his hands full trying to hold his gifts. A problem he had never experienced before. 

And he was also trying to remember the last time one of the kids had been so happy in his presence.

Luckily, Stephanie seemed to sense his dilemma and let him go. “You know, the other kids were right,” she said, tilting her head to the side. She smiled warmly at him, “You _are_ nice!”

The _other kids?_ Had they been _talking_ about him?!

“Well, I’m late for lunch but I’ll see you later!” And before Robbie could wrap his head around her _bizarre_ statement, Stephanie was pushing her way through the billboard door and running back towards town.

He stood there stunned for a moment, container in one hand and drawing under his arm. Only half aware of what he was doing, Robbie opened the container and ate two more cookies. They were _really_ good.

It occurred to him that he’d never said ‘thank you’.

Still puzzled, still shocked, Robbie descended back into his bunker. He kept a tight grip on his gifts as he tumbled out of the pipe. He stood up and froze.

Robbie had completely forgotten Sportacus was down here.

The elf was standing at the periscope, one hand on the handle. He looked over at Robbie. He was grinning, teeth and all.

“Shut up,” Robbie said, hot embarrassment crawling up his neck.

“Robbie—”

“Shut _up_!” Robbie stomped over to the kitchen and threw the gifts down on the counter. He heard Sportacus jump over the railing and join him.

“Robbie—”

“Don’t say _anything_!”

“… can I at least see the picture?”

Grumbling, Robbie shoved the paper at Sportacus. He was still grinning like an idiot. Robbie watched him unfold the paper. He looked away and popped open the cookie container again.

“He’s been drawing a lot recently,” Sportacus said, looking fondly at the picture, “I’m sure his style will improve.”

Robbie tugged the paper away, “What are you talking about, it’s perfect.”

Sportacus laughed and Robbie stomped away to hang up the drawing.

\------

The next day, Robbie followed Sportacus out of the lair after their lesson. He hugged the canvas to himself as they walked into town.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Robbie grumbled.

“Clearly the kids miss you. You should spend more time with them.”

“And you don’t think it’s odd that the kids miss the town villain?”

“You’re—” Sportacus shook his head, “Never mind.”

“What? I’m what?”

“Well you’re not very… villain-y anymore.”

Robbie spluttered, “I drew this in the first place to _stop them from playing_! How is that not villain-y?!”

Whatever offensive thing Sportacus had been planning on responding with was interrupted by several voices crying “Robbie Rotten!”

They had reached the park. Robbie tried to project the image of a man who wasn’t nervous in the slightest.

“Robbie!” Ziggy raced over, “Did you like my drawing? I have more pictures at home if you want to see them too! Do you wanna see what I got from the tooth fairy? I can’t decide if I want to save it or buy a jaw breaker—”

“Please breathe,” Robbie begged. Beside him, he heard Sportacus snort. Ziggy sucked in a long breath. Taking advantage of the silence, Robbie held up the canvas, “I thought you all might want to see what sitting still for once can get you.” He turned it around, revealing the portrait of all of them.

In seconds, he was surrounded by children.

“We look great!” Pixel said.

Ziggy giggled, “You kept my doodles in!”

“Thank you so much, Robbie!’ Stephanie was grinning.

Trixie had a look of awe on her face, “I really _am_ in the center…” She ran her finger tips over the basketball in the picture

Robbie’s face softened at that, “Of course you are. That’s where I told you to sit, right? The most important part.”

Trixie smiled up at him.

Someone cleared their throat and everyone turned to look at Stingy, who was standing a little away from the group.

“So,” he began, arms crossed, “where do you all think I should hang _my_ masterpiece?”

There was an immediate uproar from the children. Robbie chuckled and handed the canvas to Sportacus.

“Looks like an opportunity for a life lesson,” He patted the elf on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

“Robbie, please help me with—”

“And don’t _ever_ say I’m not villain-y ever again.”

“Don’t make me do this alone!”

But Robbie was already walking away, cackling as Sportacus tried to stop five arguments at once.

* * *

"Today, we’re going to make a pattern,” Robbie declared one afternoon as he tossed his empty breakfast plate into the sink. Sportacus had made him an egg in a basket. Originally, he had brought the ingredients for oatmeal but Robbie, who was usually awake when he came down now, had given him such a _look_ that Sportacus had changed his mind.

“What kind of pattern?” Sportacus asked.

“We’ll start with a shirt today. It’s easier, in some ways.”

“Sounds good!” Another step closer to being able to make his own uniform. Sportacus was excited. So far the most advanced thing he had made was a hat, and even then it looked nothing like the hat he wore with his hero outfit. Maybe the shirt would turn out better, “How do you make a pattern?”

“There are two ways to do it,” Robbie said. He wasn’t looking at Sportacus, paying very close attention to the plate he was rinsing off. “… and both of them require you to take your shirt off.”

Sportacus froze in the action of putting the butter back in the fridge. Heat exploded in his face and he was suddenly glad Robbie wasn’t looking at him, “I have to… take my shirt off? To make a pattern?”

“Yes.”

Perplexed, Sportacus hesitantly began undoing his vest. He gingerly set it on the counter, mindful of the crystal’s casing, before pulling off his shirt.

“Okay, ready.”

Robbie looked over his shoulder and Sportacus heard something land in the sink with a metallic _ding_.

“Wha- I didn’t mean _now_!” Robbie cried in a high voice. Robbie turned to fully face Sportacus and Sportacus was _sure_ he was red to his pointed ears now, “I need to get the paper first! And the chalk and scissors!”

“O-oh.” Yeah that made more sense. “Sorry, I’ll just—” He reached for his shirt.

“No, you don’t—”

“Hm?”

“That is…” Robbie reached behind him and turned the facet off, eyes locked on Sportacus’ chest, “You don’t have to get dressed again. I’ll… I’ll go set up everything. Should only take a moment.”

Robbie left the kitchen, moving towards the main part of the lair where his work bench was. Sportacus gathered his things and followed.

Suddenly, unhelpfully, the image of _Robbie_ shirtless popped into Sportacus’ head and he nearly stumbled right into the armchair.

“S-so!” Sportacus began, tossing his vest and shirt onto the chair and hoping Robbie hadn’t seen any of that, “Why did I need to take my shirt off?”

Robbie was pulling out a long roll of tracing paper from under the work table, “One way to make a pattern is to trace a shirt that already fits you. It’s like making blueprints from something already made so you can make it yourself with all the correct measurements.”

Sportacus walked over. Robbie started handing him supplies, still explaining, “It will probably be better to do this on the floor, since the paper will be so long.”

He gave Sportacus a pin cushion, not looking up at him, “Before you ask, we need to trace both sides of the shirt as well as the sleeves, which is why the paper will be long.” A ruler and a pair of scissors were given to Sportacus next.

“If you were still wearing the shirt while we traced it, the measurements would be off. That’s why you need to be…”  He passed Sportacus a piece of purple chalk and kept hold of a blue one as he stood, “… well, you know.”

He finally turned to Sportacus, looking him up and down. With a frown, he swiped the purple chalk from Sportacus’ hand and replaced it with the blue one.

“Better. Let’s start.”

During the first half of the lesson, with both of them on the floor of the lair tracing Sportacus’ shirt, Robbie wouldn’t look at Sportacus. It was only after the bunker’s chill finally got to Sportacus and he tugged his vest on over his bare chest that Robbie started acting normal again.

* * *

The 12th morning, nearly two weeks after they had started, was different. Sportacus jumped down the pipe into Robbie’s home without knocking, as usual. Sometimes Robbie was standing by the periscope with a sneer, ready to berate Sportacus on how loud he and the kids had been that morning. Sometimes he was at the work table fiddling with some invention or outfit.

This morning, he was in the kitchen, cooking eggs and sliding bread into the toaster. There was a purple mug on the counter with steam issuing from it. Sportacus approached Robbie, confused by the entire set up.

“Um, good afternoon, Robbie.”

“Good morning, Sportadork,” Robbie took a sip from his mug, putting a lid over the eggs.

“What are you doing?”

“You were up late last night,” Robbie explained, “I decided I didn’t want you to handle a stove sleep deprived. I mean, _I_ do it all the time but I highly doubt _you_ have experience—”

As worrying as that sentence was, Sportacus had to move past it in order to stay on subject, “Wait, how did _you_ know I didn’t get much sleep last night?”

“I heard your crystal _beep beep beep beep beep-_ ing when you came down from the airship. I was still up so it must have been late.”

It had been. The crystal had woken Sportacus from a dead sleep and urged him into town. He had gotten up at his usual time this morning but had felt sluggish ever since.

“What happened?” Robbie asked gently. He looked openly concerned and genuine. Sportacus felt himself relax, taking off the hero persona for a moment and pulling his hat and goggles off with a sigh.

“Pixel’s parents are out of town for the weekend on business. His grandfather is watching him. Pixel had a nightmare last night but his grandfather didn’t hear him.” He ran a hand through his hair and crossed behind Robbie to sit at the kitchen table, “I don’t know what the nightmare was about but it must have been bad if the crystal woke me up.”

Robbie leaned back against the counter, looking into his mug, “I never knew you helped the kids with nightmares.”

“It’s not often. But sometimes they just need to feel protected,” He rubbed his eyes, “I don’t mind helping, it’s just exhausting sometimes.”

Robbie hummed and turned to check on the eggs. Without looked back at Sportacus, he said, “If you want to take a nap, you can use the chair.”

A part of Sportacus wanted to automatically refuse the offer. That part wanted him to push through the sleep fogging his brain and insist on getting into the day’s lesson right away. It was the same part that had made him get up at his usual time and try to go about the day as normal.

Another part of Sportacus was remembering how comfortable the chair had been before. And how good it had smelled…

There was a loud popping sound and Sportacus jumped, blinking rapidly. Robbie was standing over him. When had that happened?

“Welcome back,” Robbie said, “You zoned out for a second there. Listen,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “you need rest. It doesn’t have to be here. You can go back to your ship if you want. Whatever works for you.”

“Th-the chair’s fine,” Sportacus forced himself to say, “If you- if you _really_ don’t mind.”

Robbie waved a hand at the armchair as he crossed back to the toaster, which had apparently been the source of the pop, “Be my guest.”

A month ago, Sportacus would have suspected Robbie’s generosity to be a trap. But now he sunk into the orange chair with total confidence and comfort. He sighed contently and placed his hat on the table before curling onto his side.

“It’ll only be for a few minutes,” He promised, closing his eyes.

Sportacus fell asleep before Robbie could reply.

He ended up sleeping for nearly an hour.

* * *

Two days later, Sportacus woke to find a letter on the floor of the ship. It was in the form of a paper airplane crafted out of familiar yellow paper.

He grinned, “I’ve got mail!” He flipped out of bed, scooped up the airplane, and unfolded it. The handwriting inside alone was enough to make his chest tighten with homesickness.

Before he could begin reading his father’s letter, a second, smaller piece of paper tumbled out. Sportacus picked it up, unsure which to read first.

In the end, he sat on the edge of his bed and read his father’s letter first, figuring his brother could wait. His pabbi talked about home; how he had _almost_ won the fishing contest last week, what new fruits the village was trying to grow, the Manneskja’s new baby being a girl, and other such things that made the homesickness a little better.

Interestingly, pabbi did not mention Sportacus’ sewing lessons at all. Sportacus had expected, at the very least, a “maybe next time you’ll listen to your elders” paragraph. His father asked how the town was and how the children were doing but didn’t say anything about the lessons or even Robbie except for a P.S. at the very bottom of the paper. Even then, he only thanked Sportacus for the pouch.

Sportacus put that letter aside to read the second one. It was short and unsigned. If Sportacus hadn’t been so familiar with his brother’s handwriting he might have been confused.

The message simply said:

> “Don’t let the old elf fool you. Go talk to your Robbie as soon as you get this.”

Sportacus gulped at the phrase “your Robbie”. His eyes couldn’t seem to leave that line alone. What did the rest of the note mean? What did pabbi do that his brother saw fit to warn Sportacus?

Used to his brother’s tricks, Sportacus tossed that letter next to his father’s. Whatever his brother was trying to plan from afar could wait. He would go see Robbie at noon, as usually.

As he began his morning workout, Sportacus wondered if Robbie ever wrote about Sportacus in his letters home. Was it always about how annoying Sportacus was or did he talk about other things? Did Robbie’s family know about the sewing lessons? He made a mental note to ask Robbie later that day.

Sportacus sat on the ground to do a spider stretch and smiled to himself. He hoped he never stopped finding out new things about Robbie.

\------

Robbie had been up for over an hour by the time Sportacus tumbled into the lair. Sportacus was early but Robbie wasn’t complaining. He couldn’t wait to show the elf what he had found next to his hatch that morning. He had been waiting impatiently, cross-legged in his chair.

“ _Hello_ , Sportacus,” He said with as much false sweetness as he could.

“Hello,” Sportacus tilted his head to one side, eyeing Robbie suspiciously, “What’s that?”

“Oh, you mean _this_ little thing?” Robbie held up the box he was holding in his lap, “I found it this morning. Apparently elf mail doesn’t know what to do when it can’t get where it’s supposed to be. So it hits itself against the entrance and someone has to wake up from a perfectly good nap to let it in.”

Sportacus blinked, “Elf mail?” he repeated slowly.

With his best evil grin, Robbie held up a letter. It was written on yellow paper.

Blue eyes went wide, “Oh no…”

“‘Dear Mister Robbie Rotten’,” Robbie read loudly over Sportacus’ groans, “‘ _Thank you_ for taking up the _lost cause_ that is teaching my son anything that doesn’t involve physical activity. Enclosed is a box of fabrics, thread, scissors, needles, bandages for when he inevitably _pokes_ himself with said needles, and a sheet of ‘good job’ stickers like that ones I used to give him when he was younger.’”

As Robbie read the letter, Sportacus crumpled to the carpet beside Robbie’s chair and was now holding his head in his hands.

Robbie went on, “‘Good luck with my _beloved hopeless case_. If his pockets are anything to go by, you have your work cut out for you. I like to think he has improved in the weeks since his letter but I _highly_ doubt it.’” Robbie held the paper over his heart, “You gave him the _pouches_ you made? You _sweetheart_!”

Without removing his hands, Sportacus said, “Please tell me that’s all he wrote.”

“Nope. He goes on to say I’m invited up for Christmas as long as I can convince you to come too.”

“No…”

“ _Yes_. And I’m also supposed to tell you he says ‘I told you so’.”

“Of course he does…” There was a long, muffled sigh from the embarrassed lump on Robbie’s floor. Robbie could not remember the last time he had been so happy to receive mail.

He got to his feet and crossed to the work table, unpacking the box, “These stickers are great, by the way. Wish I had known about them during our first lesson.”

Behind him, Robbie heard a rustle of fabric as Sportacus stood up, “I should have known he would do something like this. He didn’t say anything in his letter to me about sewing.”

Robbie chuckled, “I never knew any relation of yours could be so devious. I’m adding that to my list.”

That last sentence was out of his mouth before he could run it through any kind of mental filter.

“What list?” Sportacus asked after a moment.

“My… my list of things I know about you,” Robbie admitted. No use covering it up now, “That was the whole reason you came down here the first time, right? So we could get to know each other?” He didn’t dare turn to look at Sportacus.

Sportacus sounded closer the next time he spoke, “What else is on the list?”

The new pin cushion from Sportacus’ father was shaped like a tomato because why wouldn’t it be. Robbie placed it next to his own, “Well, you can’t eat sugar.”

Sportacus chuckled and Robbie relaxed a bit.

“I’m almost sure your favorite color is blue. You can cook. You hate tomatoes. Like, you _really_ hate tomatoes,” Robbie stacked the new fabric on the table as neatly as he could amidst the cluttered work top, “You can’t stand blood. You own two shirts but no umbrella. You can sew a _little_ bit, if I’m being generous,” He closed the box and walked over one of his many shelves, smiling when he heard Sportacus start laughing, “You’re terrible at naming inventions,” he dropped the box on a random shelf, causing the whole thing to shake, “You have a _very_ nosy father—”

The crystal chirped. Sportacus screamed, “ _Robbie!_ ”, and he was tackled to the ground; all in the space of a second. Robbie shut his eyes and his back connected with the floor of the lair at the same moment he heard something shatter. The back of his head would have connected with the ground as well, but something cushioned his fall.

He opened his eyes. Sportacus was hovering above him. One hand was next to Robbie’s head, supporting the elf. The other hand was the cushion that had kept Robbie from cracking his skull against the concrete. Sportacus was looking back over his shoulder. He had a knee on either side of Robbie’s waist.

Robbie’s heart began thudding in his ears. It was very distracting. Sportacus turned back to Robbie.

“Are you okay?”

“I— what— what was—”

“I’m not sure. It fell off the top shelf. It looks like some invention? I know you have your own organizing system but you should really be careful with what you store that high up.”

Sportacus’ face was inches from Robbie’s own. He was hyper aware of Sportacus’ breath against his nose.

“Robbie?” Sportacus repeated softly, “Are you okay?”

His face was red too. It did that sometimes. Robbie had given Sportacus’ blushes vague, optimistic thoughts since they had started these lessons. But now Sportacus was staring down at Robbie like he had never seen him before, crimson from brow to chin.

Did—

Could Sportacus—

Was he—

Is it possible he could—

Sportacus licked his top lip and spoke in a hoarse whisper, “Robbie?”

Robbie could barely pull together cognitive thought much less speech. He tried to make himself say something. Anything. A joke, an insult, a s _omething_.

Instead, his eyes floated away from Sportacus’ and down to those freshly licked lips. Maybe since _saying_ something was too difficult, perhaps Robbie should… _do_ something.

Before Robbie could even _begin_ considering plucking up the courage to _follow_ that line of thought, Sportacus sat up. In fact, he practically scrambled away from Robbie and stood. He rubbed the hand that had been between Robbie’s head and the concrete.

Robbie sat up, taking a second to find his breath again.

“Let me see your hand,” Robbie said, getting to his feet.

Sportacus kept his eyes on his hand. “Let me see your _head_.”

“My head is fine. Let me see you hand.”

Still not looking up, Sportacus extended his hand. Robbie was no doctor but it didn’t look broken or sprained or anything serious. There would likely be some light bruising later. Robbie rubbed his thumb over the middle knuckle, which was already red, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

There was silence for a time. Sportacus didn’t take his hand back and Robbie didn’t let go. He was still trying to convince his heart to calm down.

Finally, Robbie’s mind supplied a topic change. He leaned to look beyond Sportacus to the invention that would have landed on him, “Oh, wow, I had completely forgotten about that.”

Sportacus turned, slipping his hand out of Robbie’s grasp, “What is it?”

“It’s a prototype I never finished. It was supposed to be a smaller, portable version of the Candy Faker Maker 3000 but I never could get materials light enough to… make it work…” Robbie suddenly felt twice as awkward as before. _Why_ was he explaining an invention he had made with the intention of harming Sportacus _to_ Sportacus?!

Robbie coughed and walked passed Sportacus to push the invention out of the way with his foot. It was a metal box, about the size of his head, with gears and switches exposed on one side. It would have caused serious damaged if it had dropped on him.

“Thanks again,” He said as that realization hit him.

He heard Sportacus chuckle, “You know, before you never thanked me for helping you. Now you’ve done it twice.”

Robbie waved his hand, “Consider them a blanket ‘thank you’ for all the times you’ve saved me before.”

He looked back at Sportacus in time to catch the other’s grin. Sportacus waved his hand as well, “Blanket ‘you’re welcome’, then.”

Robbie snorted, “Now that _that’s_ out of the way,” he said as he made his way back to the work table, “how about we put your father’s supplies to good use? I’m _very_ excited about these stickers and I’m _sure_ you are too.”

Gradually, they settled back into the usual rhythm of their lessons. Neither mentioned the strange staring contest they had had on the floor and Robbie did his best not to think too much about Sportacus’ lips. Instead, Robbie made it his goal to bring up the package from Sportacus’ father as many times as possible.

\------

The lessons ended early, which suited Sportacus just fine. Robbie said he wanted to reorganize all this inventions so Sportacus wouldn’t have to keep saving him. “It’s my own home, I shouldn’t be in danger,” he had said as he and Sportacus cleaned up their needles and thread.

Before he went back up the pipe, Robbie stuck a yellow ‘good job’ sticker on Sportacus’ goggles. Sportacus blushed; partially from embarrassment and partially because getting praise from Robbie felt nice. Which was _also_ embarrassing.

“Tell your father thanks for the supplies,” Robbie said.

Sportacus ran a hand over his goggles, feeling the bump where the sticker was, “I was going to tell him not to call me a hopeless case but if you want me to _thank_ him instead, I guess I can do that.”

“You can tell him whatever you like as long as he keeps sending me embarrassing letters.”

“Do _not_ become pen pals with pabbi.”

“Is that any way to speak to your father’s new best friend?”

Sportacus threw up his hands and exited the lair to the tune of Robbie’s teasing laughter. Mostly on autopilot, Sportacus made his way back to town. His mind was completely distracted by the afternoon’s events.

The kids were not back from lunch yet, the lesson had ended so early. Sportacus was happy for this. It gave him time to think about things. And time to stop grinning like an idiot.

“Soccer ball!” He called up to his ship. A black and white ball fell to his feet and he began dribbling it around the court.

As he played, hitting the ball against the wall, shooting for the goal, practicing tricks; Sportacus still couldn’t wipe the giddy smile off his face.

Robbie had a _list_.

Of things about _Sportacus_.

Sportacus had his own list, of course, so he didn’t find it odd at all. But then Robbie had actually _said_ them all. There had been a few things on the list Sportacus hadn’t thought Robbie would bother remembering. And the only reason Robbie had stopped was because—

The soccer ball pinged against the goal post and rocketed back towards Sportacus. He hit it with his chest and kicked it so it landed in the goal correctly. Instead of going over to get the ball, Sportacus remained where he was in the middle of the court.

He ran a hand over his lips. Robbie had been so close. And he had just stared at Sportacus. Sportacus had had to mentally convince himself to get off him. Why had it been so difficult? It was like the second time Robbie had picked him up. Even back then, before they had really gotten to know one another, Sportacus had enjoyed the closeness. The whole time they had been on the floor, all Sportacus had thought about was what would happen if those unexpectedly strong arms had pulled him down and held him again.

And their faces had been so close to begin with that maybe—

Sportacus shook himself, a weird sort of nervous happiness filling him.

Of course, he had known for a while what this feeling was. Actually acknowledging it was a different step altogether. Even if it was only to himself. Sportacus crossed to the goal and picked up the soccer ball.

“I think I like Robbie,” He told it, “Actually, I know I do. I like Robbie Rotten,” he repeated in amazement.

The ball did not answer. Still, it felt nice to say it out loud. The statement made his smiled wider. He started hitting the ball with his knees, passing it back and forth to himself.

The memory of Robbie completely red in the face, staring up at him, almost speechless, and eyes focused on Sportacus’ mouth jumped into his mind without invitation.

The ball dropped the ground and rolled innocently away as Sportacus froze. What had Robbie been thinking with Sportacus hovering over him? Had he (possibly, somehow _, miraculously_ ) considered doing exactly what Sportacus had been thinking about just moments ago?

Sportacus turned his head slowly, looking back in the direction of Robbie’s billboard. What would happen if he were to run back now and ask Robbie straight out? His heart practically jumped into his throat just imagining it.

Before he could decide one way or the other, and he was leaning toward whichever option stopped this strange tight feeling in his chest, he heard a pair of voices call out to him.

“Sportacus!”

“Hey, Sportacus!”

Pixel and Trixie were racing up to him, waving. He waved back and jogged to pick up the soccer ball. The rest of the kids would be outside soon.

“Let’s just keep this between you and me for now,” he whispered to it as the kids came closer.

The soccer ball did not respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 6/13/17: The lovely Celepom did a fantastic comic for this chapter! [Check it out here!](http://celepom.tumblr.com/post/161086971157/new-lazytown-fic-rec-in-comic-form-this-time)


	7. Given Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The painting is complete. And so a new sketch is started. Also Sportacus falls again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before ANYTHING: y'all need to see this AMAZING comic Celepom did for the last chapter. I nearly cried, it was a wonderful surprise. [Check it out!](http://celepom.tumblr.com/post/161086971157/new-lazytown-fic-rec-in-comic-form-this-time)
> 
> SECOND THING: This whole fic has been a fun ride filled with wonderful comments by you folk. Thank you all. Rottensocksandfluff, this is still your gift fic; do not forget! Thank you for being nothing but loving and supportive since we started talking to each other. I do hope you have enjoyed, not only hearing me talk about this fic, but reading it as well! <3
> 
> Alright kids, what do you say we end this fic? Here we go! Tell me if you spot any mistakes!

Sportacus used the whisk to combine the ingredients in the glass bowl. He hummed to himself as ran the whisk around the edges of the bowl to get all the flour incorporated.

“You’re gloating,” said Robbie from behind him.

“No, I’m humming,” Sportacus corrected. He held his hand above the pan on the stove. It was almost hot enough.

“You do that when you’re proud of yourself.”

“Do I?”

“Yes and it’s annoying. Cut it out.”

“I don’t want to. I _am_ proud of myself.”

“I told you you could _make_ me this. I can still refuse to _eat_ it.”

Resting the whisk against the rim of the bowl, Sportacus finally turned to him. Robbie was sitting at the kitchen table, pouting at Sportacus like a child being made to eat vegetables.

Which was _almost_ the case.

It had taken a bit of pleading but Sportacus had finally convinced Robbie to let him make something with sports candy for breakfast. Robbie had extracted several promises from Sportacus that it would still be a good meal. 

Now Robbie was eyeing the strawberries Sportacus had cut up earlier with great suspicion. It was as if he thought they would explode. Sportacus rolled his eyes, “Just try one bite and if you really don’t like it, I’ll never make you eat sports candy again.”

“Good,” Robbie huffed.

Sportacus frowned, putting on a hurt expression, “I just wanted to see you eat something healthy for once. I worry about your diet sometimes. Didn’t mean to insult you…”

Robbie stared at him. To Sportacus’ private enjoyment, he almost looked panicked, “I- I’ll give it a chance, Sportaflip. For my—” he gagged, “ _health_.”

Sportacus turned back to his whisking, letting a smile onto his face now that Robbie couldn’t see him. Little moments like that, where Robbie wore his heart on his sleeves and obviously cared for Sportacus’ happiness, made Sportacus almost brave enough to confess.

Almost.

Maybe the way Sportacus was bringing out these small moments was a little devious, a little _too_ close to pabbi-levels of manipulation, but perhaps one day they would give Sportacus the confidence he needed to say something.

Somedays, the words “I like you” fought their way up into his mouth and it took everything he had to hold his lips shut against them. Robbie would smile or laugh or pout or cover his hand to adjust his stitching or complement him on his food or comment on something the kids did and Sportacus would have to literally _bite_ his tongue to keep the phrase from spilling out.

Sportacus had even given himself the ‘hero talk’. The “You have to be brave or nothing is going to change; you’re the hero for heaven’s sake and you shouldn’t be afraid of saying a few words” talk. The internal voice for that talk had sounded a lot like his father’s voice. That might be why Sportacus had ignored the advice.

There was a tap on his shoulder and Sportacus jumped, reflexively clutching the bowl.

“Did you hear me?” Robbie was beside him, “I asked how much longer this was going to take.”

“Once- once the batter is mixed it doesn’t take long to cook,” Sportacus responded, resuming his whisking and not looking up.

Robbie snorted, “I think it’s mixed to death but you’re the cook, not me,” he stepped away back to the table. Sportacus realized he was right; the batter was very well incorporated.

He checked the heat of the pan before scooping some batter onto it. Within minutes, the edges began turning brown. He flipped it with the aid of a rubber spatula. By this point, Robbie had wandered over again and was watching Sportacus.

“Are you making crêpes?” He asked.

Sportacus ran the spatula around the edge before carefully folding the thin pancake into a triangle. He lifted the crêpe onto a plate before pouring more batter into the pan.

“Why do you know how to make crêpes?”

“Can you pass me the bowl of strawberries?”

Shaking his head, Robbie walked around Sportacus to do just that. After flipping the crêpe, Sportacus lay a few halved strawberries inside before tucking it into a triangle.

He continued this process for a while. Some crêpes were plain, other stuffed with strawberries. After the 9th one, Robbie had pulled some chocolate chips down from a cabinet and gave Sportacus a pleading look. Sportacus chuckled and tossed a few inside a crêpe, watching the chips melt.

Soon they had two plates full of crêpes. Sportacus threw a few more strawberries on top of one plate before sprinkling the whole thing in powdered sugar. He passed that plate to Robbie. The rest of the sports candy went onto the second plate which Sportacus took for himself. Last week, Robbie had constructed another chair so Sportacus could join him at the kitchen table. There they both sat.

Sportacus ignored his own food in favor of watching Robbie intently. Robbie had picked up his fork and was poking at the top crêpe, which happened to be a strawberry filled one. He glanced up at Sportacus. Sportacus smiled encouragingly.

Robbie cut a piece off and stuffed it into his mouth in one motion, squeezing his eyes shut like he was bracing himself. He chewed slowly. Sportacus held his breath.

Then, Robbie dropped his fork and stood up, flinging his hands into the air, “YOU HAVE _GOT_ TO BE KIDDING ME!”

Sportacus grinned, “Does that mean—”

“How do you keep _doing_ this?!”

“Do you _actually_ —”

“Why is everything you make delicious?!”

Sportacus speared a strawberry and pointed it at Robbie, “Do you mean to tell me we’ve found the one sports candy Lazytown’s favorite villain will actually eat?”

Robbie glared at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I hate you.”

Sportacus merely smiled proudly in return.

Robbie sat back down and, still glaring at Sportacus, shoved another forkful of crêpe into his mouth, “You probably used magic to make the strawberries taste sweet,” he said, spewing crumbs across the table.

“I never use magic when I cook.”

“Then you did something to my fork.”

“I really didn’t. Look,” Sportacus held out the strawberry still stuck to the end of his own fork, “Try it from mine. It tastes the same.”

Sportacus hadn’t really thought his challenge through. It was only as Robbie leaned forward and ate the fruit from his fork that he realized how this looked. Robbie didn’t seem to find anything odd about Sportacus essentially feeding him. He chewed the strawberry thoughtfully before the scowl returned to his face.

“So, no magic.”

“No magic,” Sportacus hoped he sounded casual enough. He was trying hard not to think about how using his fork now would be like an indirect—

Robbie stuffed the rest of the strawberry crêpe into his mouth, “Don’t you dare tell the brats,” he said around the mush, “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Not brats,” Sportacus corrected automatically, finally digging into his own plate.

“Imps, then.”

“No.”

“Gremlins.”

“You can call them ‘kids’, you know.”

“I can call them ‘brats’ too.”

“Be nice.”

Robbie stuck out his tongue, which still had globs of crêpe stuck to it.

“Don’t make a mess,” Sportacus admonished even as he giggled.

“You’re one to talk,” Robbie gestured at Sportacus’ chest with his fork, “You’re covered in batter.”

Sportacus looked down at himself. Indeed, there was a line of batter across his vest. Probably from when Robbie had surprised him earlier. He grabbed a napkin from the middle of the table and started wiping at it.

Robbie shook his head, standing, “That won’t do it. Take it off, I’ll wash it.”

Sportacus looked up at him, “It’s hard to wash with the casing,” he tapped the ‘10’ in the middle of his chest, “I usually wash it by hand.”

“It doesn’t come off?”

“The case? No. Why would it?”

“You said you had two uniforms. I figured the casing could come off and clip on to whichever vest you were wearing.”

“No, both vests have their own case. I just pop out the crystal and move it to the one I put on.”

“Oh,” Robbie tapped at his chin, “I always assumed… Well, anyway, it’s fine. I’ll wrap it in cloth so it doesn’t get scratch up in the washer.”

“If you insist,” Sportacus stood and shrugged out of his vest. He took the crystal out and placed it on the table before handing the vest to Robbie. Robbie disappeared further into the lair and came back moments later. 

They finished their meal (lunch to Sportacus; breakfast to Robbie) and cleaned up the kitchen. Sportacus looked up at the disguise machine. In a tube at the very end was his new uniform. It was still incomplete; the pants had turned out to be a nightmare to get exactly right design-wise and the vest was missing the ‘10’ on the back. But soon, Sportacus would have a fresh, if slightly awkward, uniform.

“We’re doing belt loops today,” Robbie said, grabbing the ironing board from behind the work table, “Which means we’ll need the iron again.”

Sportacus groaned, “I hate the iron.”

“I told you, the iron is your best friend when you’re sewing. Learn to love it.”

Sportacus allowed himself to pout as Robbie set up the board.

Robbie smirked at him, “If I covered the iron in your stickers, would you like it then?”

“Please don’t.”

* * *

It took them too long to make the strips that would become the belt loops. Sportacus had burned himself the first time they had used the iron when making the shirt and had been skittish around it ever since. It took them almost an hour to cut, flatten, sew, and attach the belt loops.

Instead of having to deal with a mopey Sportacus the whole time, Robbie asked how the kids had been that morning and watched with amusement as Sportacus’ eyes lit up. Sportacus always became animated when talking about the kids. Today he told Robbie about Pixel being about to do a headstand all on his own.

“And Trixie didn’t even try to push him over! That was a first,” Sportacus was saying as he sewed on the last loop, “She’s getting really good at basketball, by the way. You should come up and watch a game some time. I think the kids would like that.”

Robbie was munching on the still-open bag of chocolate chips, supervising the sewing from afar. Sportacus was getting better by the day, “They would also like to trick me into playing, I bet.”

“Well, of course they would like you to play with them. But they’d also just like to see you more.”

Robbie wondered if the kids had really said all this or if Sportacus was just trying to get him outside. Either way, it was working.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Robbie said, trying not to make it sound like a promise.

Sportacus beamed. He knotted off the stitch and used his teeth to break the thread. He held up the pants in triumph.

Crossing over to the elf, Robbie picked up the pants and inspected them.

“Not bad at all,” He said. Sportacus’ smile only grew. He really was coming along well. Robbie was proud, both of himself and Sportacus. The uniform looked a little clumsy but considering it was Sportacus’ first time making anything of this magnitude, it was alright. “We’re almost done. Pretty soon you won’t have to come over anymore.”

Even as Robbie said the words, a sense of loss settled over him. Once he taught Sportacus how to make all the parts of his uniform, there would be no real reason for him to make Robbie breakfast every afternoon. He wouldn’t need to come by the lair anymore.

“I’ll still come over!” Sportacus said, jumping up from his spot on the bench, “I’m sure there’s a lot more you can teach me. And maybe I can teach you some things too! And even if we didn’t have anything to teach each other,” Sportacus reached out and took Robbie’s hand, “we’re still friends, remember?”

There was something about holding Sportacus’ hand that always calmed Robbie. It was the only reason he hadn’t let go that day they had walked to the billboard in the rain. Sportacus was a ball of energy and constantly on the move, but holding his hand was soothing. At this moment, it was also reassuring. Robbie had been coming to enjoy Sportacus’ company and the idea of not having him around was upsetting.

He snorted in amusement. The Robbie of three months ago would have been appalled by current-Robbie.

“What’s so funny?”

Robbie shook his head at Sportacus’ question. “Nothing,” Robbie squeezed his hand, “Why don’t you put the pants back in the tube? Then we can clean up.”

Sportacus grinned before releasing Robbie and taking the pants from him. He crossed the lair and made his way to the disguise machine. With a practiced hand, he used the machine to get the pants into the correct tube.

“I’m starting to resent the color blue,” Sportacus was saying as he made his way back down, “We’ve used so much blue fabric to make this outfit I think I’m getting sick… of…” He trailed off. Robbie, who had been attempting to put away the ironing board without pinching his fingers, turned. Sportacus was standing stock still at the bottom of the ramp, eyes fixed on something on the other side of the work table they had been using.

“What is it?” Robbie asked.

Slowly, Sportacus walked over and picked up something that had been leaning against the table.

Something that made Robbie’s heart _drop_.

It was the canvas with Sportacus’ painting on it.

Ever since that day with the Colortron 8000, Robbie had been working on the sketch he had made of Sportacus. There had been many opportunities to observe Sportacus over the past few weeks (particularly the day he had been shirtless), and Robbie had been adding or fixing details the whole time. It was only a few days ago he had actually decided to paint it.

Not that there was anything he could really do with the painting. With Sportacus coming by all the time, he couldn’t hang it up. Maybe it could go in his bedroom but Robbie was barely in there. So its home had become the far side of the work bench.

Which had apparently been a _terrible_ place as it was now in Sportacus’ hands.

Robbie felt an ice cold flood his vein. His clasped his hands behind his back before they could begin to noticeably shake. All he could do was stare at Sportacus staring at the painting of himself. Sportacus’ eyes traced over the canvas. 

“This is…” Sportacus began.

 _Creepy. Bad. Weird. Horrible_.  Robbie’s mind helpfully filled in.

Although if you had asked him last night, Robbie would have said, “Perfect, but nowhere near as handsome as the original subject.”

In the painting, Sportacus had his hat off, wavy blond hair and pointed ears exposed. Sportacus’ blue eyes were closed in mirth. He was still on the wall in the park but Robbie had painted a lush forest behind him, as well as a sky dotted with puffy clouds. Somehow, Ziggy’s chalk doodles had still made it into the final draft.

Sportacus finally closed his mouth. He put the painting down, leaning it against the work table once more, “Robbie… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Robbie swallowed. The cold fear that had been coursing through him before was replaced by a strange fluttering sensation in his stomach. Sportacus had not lifted is head.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. I just keep stopping myself because I’m not sure what _you’ll_ say but I…”

Taking in a great breath, Sportacus looked up. He made eye contact with Robbie. After a moment, a moment where an irresponsible amount of hope filled Robbie’s chest, Sportacus said in a rush:

“I think we should redo my hat!”

There was silence.

Robbie wasn’t sure he could handle much more of this emotional roller coaster.

Disappointment fell heavy on Robbie’s shoulders and he felt himself slump slightly. “Your… hat?” he repeated slowly, eyes trailing up to the cap on Sportacus’ head.

Sportacus gestured behind him towards the tubes, “The hat that I made. The first part we made. I’m better than I was so I think we should remake it.”

“Oh.”

“Unless. Do you think it looks okay?”

“Oh _no_ , not at all. I mean!” Robbie fumbled to make that sound like less of an insult, “I just— it’s not as good as the rest of the uniform. I agree. We can try again.”

Sportacus’ responding smile did not quite reach his eyes, “Great! Well, I should get going. I promised Milford I would help him with… something. I’ll see you tomorrow, Robbie!”

And before Robbie could think about objecting, Sportacus was up the pipe and out of the bunker.

Robbie stood there for a few more moments for good measure. Then he slapped a hand to his face.

“What was _that_?!” He groaned to himself, “What did you _think_ he was going to say, Rotten? How could you even think— How could _you_!” He jabbed himself in the chest, right where he had felt that foolish hope gathering, “Traitor! Letting me feel such things.”

He turned and finished collapsing the board, absolutely disgusted with himself. As he stuffed it back into the closet, he realized Sportacus had left without his vest. Robbie had forgotten to switch it to the dryer anyway. He stomped off. Might as well have it dry for Sportaout-of-his-league tomorrow.

As Robbie passed through the kitchen, he failed to notice what was still on the kitchen table.

* * *

As soon as Sportacus was out of the bunker, he passed through the billboard, shut the ‘secret’ door, and slumped against it. His heart was beating wildly in his ears. He felt like he had just run for miles.

“You really are a Sporta _kook_ ,” he scolded himself, digging his knuckles into his forehead.

He’d _almost_ said it. He’d been so _close_.

With a sigh, Sportacus began walking back to town. The painting had looked _amazing_. Photographs were great but there was something so personal about seeing one’s self in a painting. It was obvious Robbie had put a lot of time into it. Sportacus had felt such a rush of affection for Robbie in that moment he had nearly let the words out of his mouth. Even now, his legs wobbled as he walked, as if they wanted to race back and finally let the phrase escape.

Sportacus looked over his shoulder wistfully, “I like you,” he said.

That relieved some of the pressure. But he still felt like a coward. He could almost _feel_ his father rolling his eyes at him across the miles.

Sportacus arrived in town. Pixel had acquired a new video game and the kids had planned to play it after lunch. Sportacus was glad they were getting along and right now he was glad they weren’t around. He’d be too distracted if they had wanted to play.

The frustration he felt for himself had not gone away on his walk. Sportacus decided to do some exercises and try to focus on the positives of the day.

As he crouched into a push up position, Sportacus thought about breakfast. Robbie had eaten strawberries! He had eaten a sports candy! Sure it was mixed in with sugar and chocolate but he’d done it! It was quite the accomplishment. Robbie would never stop eating a ridiculous amount of sweets but if Sportacus could worm a few fruits in there, he would be happy.

After 70 pushups, Sportacus rolled over and did a good amount of bicycle kicks in the air. This line of thinking was good. It was better to think about breakfast than the painting. Even though Robbie had eaten off his fork at breakfast.

Sportacus let his legs fall to the ground and covered his blushing face with both hands. It was childish but they had _shared a fork_.

“Don’t think about it,” he commanded himself, “Think about something else.”

His brain switched gears.

How else could he get Robbie to eat more fruit? Sportacus lowered his hands and looked around as if he would just spot inspiration nearby.

As luck would have it, he had begun his exercises under a sports candy tree. Directly above him high in the tree was a ripe red apple. Sportacus sat up with a grin.

“Ball!” he called up to his ship. A soccer ball popped out and fell into his waiting hands. Taking aim, Sportacus performed the soccer flip trick he did for the kids so often. The ball smacked against the tree. Many of the branches trembled violently. No apple fell.

Sportacus looked up at the apple, hands on his hips. It was probably too far up to be effected by a hit to the trunk.

He shrugged and began climbing the tree.

* * *

After trying a sports candy, teaching Sportacus about belt loops, and forcing his own feelings back down his throat, Robbie deserved a nap. He had just settled himself in the armchair when a loud beeping began emitting from the kitchen. Grumbling, he untangled himself from his blankie and stomped into the kitchen. He mentally ran through the short list of appliances that would make such a racket.

It wasn’t an appliance, but a small crystal on the table. _Sportacus’_ crystal.

Robbie picked it up and looked it over. It was flashing bright colors and still beeping.

“Well _that’s_ never good.”

Clutching the crystal secure in his fist, Robbie ran for the hatch.

* * *

The tree was a lot higher than it looked. Sportacus kept his eyes up as he climbed, keeping the apple in sight. It would be great mixed into oatmeal. He wondered how he could get Robbie to eat oatmeal. Maybe with enough brown sugar…

He stopped. The next branch didn’t look sturdy enough to hold him. Sportacus raised himself on his tip toes, arm outstretched. This was for Robbie, he had to get the apple for Robbie, had to see him tomorrow and not feel weird or embarrassed or Robbie would find out that Sportacus—

There was a _crack_.

* * *

Robbie ran pell-mell toward town. The crystal’s beeping had not stopped. It wasn’t even muffled by Robbie’s hand around it. If anything it grew louder as he entered Lazytown. 

“ _Where_?!” He yelled, shaking the useless thing, “ _Where_ is the trouble?! Where’s that stupid _elf_?!”

He heard a loud rustling from a tree nearby. Robbie looked up to see a blue clad  _idiot_ climbing a tree without supervision.

Just as Robbie was about to call up to him about the crystal, there was a loud _crack_.

Without conscious thought, already out of breath from racing here in the first place, Robbie charged forward. Once again he was at the bottom of a tree, bracing himself, hoping they both came out of this unscathed.

Except instead of adrenaline and instinct filling him, this time his only thought was _Please be okay I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt for real._

Oh yes, past-Robbie would _defiantly_ be disgusted by present-day Robbie.

Robbie caught Sportacus and held him close. Arms came up and wrapped themselves around Robbie’s neck.  Behind him, Robbie heard something heavy crash onto grass.

The crystal stopped beeping.

Robbie looked down at Sportacus, still out of breath, “Are you okay?!”

Sportacus said nothing, he just pulled away from Robbie’s shoulder and looked up at Robbie with a strange expression on his face. Like he had never seen Robbie before.

“Sport?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I’m… I’m fine,” he craned his head to look behind Robbie. Robbie looked over his own shoulder and saw a long but thin branch on the ground.

“Why were you climbing questionable trees again?” Robbie asked in exasperation.

Sportacus had the decency to look sheepish, “Well, there was a really good looking apple up near the top…”

Robbie sighed, his heart rate returning to normal. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Sportacus’. He was too relieved to feel embarrassed about doing so now. Maybe later.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he mumbled, eyes shut, “I can’t always be there to save the hero.”

Sportacus’ arms tighten around Robbie’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

It was such a serene moment. Robbie could have stayed that way for hours.

After a few moments, Sportacus pulled his head away, “Can you put me down?”

A part of Robbie wanted to refuse, to hold Sportacus just a little longer. After a brief hesitation, he did let Sportacus go. He expected Sportacus to step away from him and demand to know how Robbie had gotten there in time to catch him.

Instead, he held Robbie by the shoulder to steady himself, just like before. Then he looked up at Robbie. His face was set, determined, like back when Robbie was first teaching him the backstitch.

“Let me know if I’m drawing the wrong conclusion,” Sportacus said.

Then Sportacus had a hand on the back of Robbie’s neck, pulling him down slightly.

Then Sportacus was kissing him.

His lips were chapped against Robbie’s own.

Which was Robbie’s first thought. His second thought was to quietly panic and try and figure out what to do with his hands. Sportacus had one hand behind Robbie’s head and the other on his shoulder, but what was Robbie’s supposed to do with his own hands? Put them on the elf’s waist? Shoulders?

Perhaps he should be having more romantic thoughts; like what Sportacus’ tasted like or how finally finally _finally_ one of them had made a move. And on some level, Robbie _was_ thinking those things. But he wanted this to go right, wanted this to be a good memory, and he _didn’t know where to put his hands_.

Sportacus pulled away before too long and Robbie followed his lips to initiate another kiss, letting his eyes slip shut this time. Driven by a single thought ( _‘stay’_ ), his hands found their way to Sportacus face, holding him in place, thumbs caressing his cheeks and fingers skimming the hair sticking out the bottom of this hat. Sportacus wrapped both arms around his neck again, pulling him closer. Their noses pressed together awkwardly but Robbie didn’t mind the mild discomfort. He was slowly realizing that this was _happening_ , that Sportacus felt the same things he did, that maybe the hope he had felt before hadn’t been so foolish after all.

They finally pulled away from each other, but neither let go, so they settled for resting their foreheads together again. Both were panting. Robbie could felt Sportacus’ breath against his own mouth and resisted the urge to kiss him again.

Then he realized he didn’t _have_ to resist temptation anymore.

He peppered small kisses on the corners of Sportacus’ lips, not stopping even when Sportacus giggled and tried to move away. Sportacus had yet to release Robbie so he must not want to get away _that_ badly.

“You gave me permission,” Robbie teased between kisses, “Just try and stop me now.”

“Oh believe me, I don’t want you to,” Sportacus said with a chuckle, “But there’s a bit more I want to say.”

With a finally quick kiss, Robbie pulled back. He draped his arms loosely around Sportacus’ shoulders. He wasn’t completely ready to give up the closeness just yet.

Now that he could see Sportacus’ whole face clearly, Robbie could fulling appreciate the lingering blush. He was sure his own cheeks were just as flushed.

“I’ve been practicing saying this to sports equipment—”

“Of _course_ you have.”

“I like you,” Sportacus said, “A lot. I have for a while now.”

Robbie couldn’t contain a grin, “I haven’t practiced at all but, I like you too.”

Sportacus’ face grew impossibly redder and he kissed Robbie again and Robbie wondered if they couldn’t just spend the rest of their lives doing this; trading kisses and confessions.

When Sportacus pulled back this time, he tilted his head quizzically, “How did you know I needed saving?”

“This,” Robbie reluctantly let go of Sportacus to pick up the crystal he had dropped. It wasn’t flashing anymore. He passed it back to Sportacus and watched realization dawn on him.

He took it from Robbie, “I completely forgot I didn’t have it. That could have been bad.”

“I forgot too,” Robbie said, “It went off for you.”

Sportacus pocketed the crystal, “Thank you for that. Again,” he smirked, “I thought this last time but you’re stronger than I first thought.”

“Did you see an elevator in my bunker? I had to _carry_ all those machines up here to use them on you. Tends to build muscle. ”

“I never thought about that…”

Robbie shrugged. He shifted slightly so their hands brushed. Sportacus took his hand immediately, lacing their fingers and squeezing him tightly.

There was a tiny snap and something red fell from the tree beside them. Sportacus caught it with ease. It was an apple. Sportacus held it up and quirked an eyebrow, “How do you feel about oatmeal?”

Gagging, Robbie cried, “It’s like you don’t know me at all! _Oatmeal_?! Disgusting. I ought to write to your father about this mistreatment.”

Sportacus laughed and tugged his hand so Robbie was against him once more, “My _sincerest_ apologies for trying to keep you healthy enough to save me all the time,” he said dramatically. Robbie laughed outright. Apparently he had been a bad influence on Sportacus, “How can I _possibly_ make it up to you?”

“You can throw that apple far away from here. Or you can kiss me again.”

Just saying the word ‘kiss’ had Robbie’s face heating up. At least Sportacus’ blush came back as well. Worth it.

With a smirk, Sportacus raised himself onto his toes and kissed Robbie once again. Robbie was still unsure what to do with his free hand but realized it didn’t matter.

As long as he kept one hand in Sportacus’, Robbie knew he would be happy.

* * *

The next day, Sportacus jumped into Robbie lair a little earlier than normal. The first thing that caught his eye was the painting hanging above the work table. He grinned at his own smiling face.

Robbie was curled up in his armchair, mug of coffee on the table beside him and sketchbook against his knees. His nose twitched as he stared hard at the page, gliding a pencil over the paper in short strokes.

“You hung it up,” Sportacus stated in greeting, pointing to the painting on the wall.

“No reason to hide it anymore,” Robbie said. He didn’t look up from his sketch, “It’s not like the brats are going to come down here and see it.”

“Not brats. Would that be a bad thing? For the kids to see it?”

“It would be a pretty big clue that we’re… not enemies anymore.”

Sportacus smirked as a blush crossed his face. They idea of being together was still very new to both of them. Terminology was still in question.

Robbie did look at him then, “That’s the face I want!” He went back to scribbling with a gleefully smile.

Sportacus circled behind the chair to peer over his shoulder, “What are you doing?”

Robbie held up the book for him to inspect. It was another drawing of Sportacus; this time he was blushing, looking adoringly up at something. In the background was the rough outline of what might be a tree trunk.

“I decided yesterday it’s my favorite expression on you,” Robbie explained.

Sportacus felt his face grow warmer remembering yesterday.

“Exactly that, thank you.”

An embarrassed laugh escaped him as Sportacus covered his face with both hands. He heard Robbie stand from the chair.

“Would it be such a bad thing if the kids found out?” Sportacus asked, lowering his hands now that his blush had ebbed somewhat.

Robbie shrugged, “Maybe not. I’m just not sure how they’ll take it. Seeing their hero with a villain.”

He was in front of Sportacus now, taking one of his hands. Now that he had been ‘given permission’, Robbie did that a lot. Sportacus didn’t mind at all.

“Villains don’t make cupcakes for kids. Or paintings,” Sportacus said, “And I bet they would be very excited.”

“Is that so,” Robbie said distractedly. He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Sportacus’ lips.

Sportacus tried not to let himself get caught up in the moment. There was a reason he was down here early. “Yes,” Sportacus murmured when he pulled away, “I bet they would use it as an excuse to have a party.”

Robbie hadn’t moved far. Inches from Sportacus’ face, he raised an eyebrow, “A party?”

“With cake for you and sports candy for me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And maybe they would take all morning to prepare it for us.”

At that, Robbie reared back. He still held Sportacus’ hand but was as far away as his arm would allow, “What did you _do_?”

“I told you, I’ve l-like you for a long time!” Would he _ever_ be able to say that without turning red? Some hero _he_ was, “So this morning I was just so happy and I kind of… let it slip?”

Robbie groaned, “Where are they?”

As if on cue, there was a banging noise from the hatch above them.

Sending a glare at Sportacus, Robbie pulled him along and marched up the ramp to the periscope. Sportacus knew what he would see outside the lair. Sportacus had run ahead to give Robbie this heads up. By now the kids would be assembled by the hatch, armed with a pink heart-shaped cake and a bowl of fruit cut into small hearts.

“That is the worst attempt at homemade frosting I have ever seen in my life,” Robbie finally said, lifting his eyes from the periscope. He shot another glare at Sportacus, “I told you before; you can’t invite people over.”

Sportacus shrugged, “I can’t help it if they insisted on _following_ me here.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Sportacus gave him a peck on the cheek for that one.

Cheeks pink, Robbie turned his gaze back to the periscope, “Why do they have streamers? Why do they want to throw a party in the first place? It’s not like we got _engaged_ or anything.”

Sportacus’ heart skipped a beat. Robbie must have realized what he said because he looked up at Sportacus with wide eyes.

Trying to sound casual, Sportacus teased, “I’m not against the idea but we really only just confessed to each other _yesterday_. Actually,” he checked the clock above the disguise machine, “not even 24 hours ago.”

He tugged Robbie’s hand to bring him closer. “I think I’d like to get to know you better first,” he said with a mischievous smile.

Robbie smirked back, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hand over my chest) Gods above that was my first real kiss scene I hope I did okay.


End file.
